Any Other Day
by CPDxOTHLove
Summary: Erin's life is turned upside down again and again, but this last time it's not just her she has to think about. She has a son to worry about now, too.
1. Chapter 1

Hi everyone :) I have hit a little bit of a writer's block with Nothing to Fear, although I promise I am not done with it! But I just got too excited for my new story now to statr writing it. I really really hope you like it. It's a little different than my usual, but I hope you all still enjoy it :)

 **Chapter 1**

Erin's POV

There are moments in your life, pivotal moments, where your life seem to split in two. Where suddenly there are two versions of yourself. There's the person you were before the pivotal moment happened, and then there's the you after.

Sometimes it's subtle. Sometimes you don't even know that it's happening, it's only in retrospect that you're able to see the significance of the moment.

Like the day Hank Voight arrested me for solicitation when I was 15. Or the day I met Jay Halstead in the bullpen at District 21. Two men that would change the trajectory of my life forever, that would completely tilt my world on it's axis, shoving me into a whole new one.

But then there are the big moments. The moments that you _know_ with one hundred percent certainty, even as it's happening, that your life will never be the same.

Like the day Jay bent down on one knee and asked me to marry him. Or even the day Hank walked me down the aisle, and I finally, finally became Jay's wife.

Then there was the day that Jay got the letter in the mail from the Rangers, calling him back to Afghanistan.

But then all of those paled in comparison to the day one month later, when I peed on a stick and I found out I was pregnant.

I had still been holding the stick in my hand when I heard the knock at the door. It was still in the early hours of the morning, the sun barely having risen over the horizon, so I should have known. But I didn't. I was so focused on the stick in my hand I just skipped down the stairs, completely unprepared and blissfully unaware for a few more moments of how incredibly, _awfully_ my life was about the change.

That was the day I found out my husband was dead.

And in one minute, everything split from one life to the next.

I went from wife to widow. From happy to devastated. From whole to incomplete.

He had been in a helicopter that had gone down. Half of the bodies had been recovered at the scene, half were missing in action.

I was supposed to consider myself lucky that Jay had been one of the dead one's. That at least I _knew_ where his body was laid to rest _,_ that I wouldn't be kept wondering.

I sat at his funeral, begging to open the casket. I needed to see my husband's face one more time. But the Rangers on guard wouldn't let me, citing that it would be better for me in the long run if I didn't know what his face looked like in the end. That it would haunt my dreams.

As if they weren't already going to be haunted.

Now, though, I derive new meaning from that whole day. But I still remember it like it was yesterday. I remember sitting there, sobbing, wiping my snot into the black sleeve of my dress until Hank gave me a tissue.

I sat there with a life growing inside me that no one else knew about. And I just remembered envying those women, those _other_ women, the women who's husband's had just been missing in action.

Sure, everyone said _those_ women wouldn't be able to move on. They would spend there life wondering, hoping their husbands would come home. But I remember thinking I would never be able to move on, anyway.

And what the fuck is wrong with a little bit of hope.

All my hope had been lost. It had vanished in an instant. And the moment they handed me that goddamned flag, I wanted to throw it back in their stupid faces. I wanted to shout _NO! Give him BACK!_

 _I need him_ here _._

 _Our baby needs him_ here _._

There were other moments, too, after that. Big and small. Like the day my son Jacob was born.

I had chosen the name to closely resemble his fathers. I had wanted to name our son after him, but at the same time, I couldn't bring myself to call out Jay's name every day for the rest my life and not have _my_ Jay answer me. I knew Jacob was as close as I would be able to get.

It was eight months after the funeral, and it was devastating and beautiful and magical and lonely all at once.

I think that's how I would describe my life since, too.

My life became a little more normal, though, after that. Jacob and I moved in with Hank, and I began to adjust to my new reality, and I even managed to move on a little. I allowed myself to be set up, and I met someone else. And even though it wasn't the great love that I had had with Jay Halstead, it became enough for me.

Because after all those moments, I think I realized that something safe and comfortable is okay. And because let's be real, I was never going to feel that great love again. No sense in even trying.

I had had my true love, I had had him for years. It may have been too short for my liking, but it was longer than some people had in a lifetime.

So when Paul asked me to marry him, I said yes. And that time didn't seem to split my life in two the way Jay's proposal had. It didn't feel as significant of a moment, my life didn't turn on it's axis, but it did put a smile on my face and it did bring small tears to my eyes.

And so, I thought I was done with those big moments.

Maybe we would have another baby, a sibling for Jacob. But those big moments, well, those are ones you can plan for, so they're not really the same.

I would settle down with Paul, and I would live a quiet, safe life. I couldn't return to my former self, and that was okay. That girl had split off that day two and a half years ago, and now she was gone.

But then, I woke up this morning, and my life changed again.

The life I had carefully constructed, the _safe_ life I had chosen to protect myself against surprises and heartache.

Apparently, the universe had one other big moment in store for me.

0000 0000 0000 0000 0000

It was Sunday. I rolled over before my alarm, like I did every morning, my inner clock never letting me sleep past 6 am.

It was something my former self was, remarkably, always able to do. On the weekends, when I wasn't working, I could sleep like a champ. Jay, always the early riser, used to make fun of me. He used to open the shades dramatically, shoving them aside as he said _Morning sunshine_ and handed me a cup of steaming coffee.

And he would only do that _after_ 9 am, because honestly, getting woken up before 9 am on the one or two days you don't have to work is just mean.

But the minute Jacob was born, I became an early riser. It first started because he was, but now, with my one and a half year old sleeping until seven or eight, I use the time to get stuff done.

Also, because if I'm being honest, snuggling up to Paul in the morning isn't as appealing as it should be.

That's the thing about Paul. He is truly amazing. He is smart and handsome and funny and polite and I know he would be a fantastic stepfather to Jacob. And all those things make him the perfect person to share my life with. And so, I think somewhere along the line I decided it was okay that I didn't want to wrap my body around him, using his skin to warm mine like I used to with Jay.

So, instead of staying tucked beneath my warm blanket, I got up. I did a load of laundry. I got dressed. I made my own coffee. Then, I got Jacob up, and I got him dressed.

Then, Paul, Jacob, and I got in the car and drove the five minute drive to Hank's house for breakfast.

"Good morning," Hank said, as we walked through the door. "How's my favorite little man?"

Paul had carried Jacob from the car, and Hank immediately plucked him possessively out of his arms. The motion may have seemed okay, even normal to Paul, but I knew better.

Hank was _not_ a fan.

"Grandpa!" Jacob squealed. He had only learned a few words, his vocabulary being okay, albeit slightly delayed for a one and a half year old, but grandpa had been one of the first words he learned. Mama, Grandpa, cookie, no, and then, Paul.

"Morning, Hank," I said, leaning in and kissing him chastely on the cheek. I still work in the Intelligence unit, with a new partner that dons Jay's desk, so I see Hank everyday. But the affectionate hugs and fatherly kisses on the forehead are generally reserved for Sunday morning breakfast.

"Morning, kid," he replied.

Hank kissed Jacob on the forehead, and moved into the house. He deposited him in his play pen, the area that had been previously set up for Daniel, but now that he was older, was now Jacob's personal corner in the Voight household.

"Kid, can you come talk to me in the kitchen for a minute?" Hank asked, making it clear that Paul was _not_ invited to join the discussion.

"Yeah," I tilted my head at him, giving him a raised eyebrow and a confused face, even thought I knew _exactly_ what this was about.

When we were out of Paul's ear shot, he started in with it again. "Erin," he said with no preamble. "I know you loved Jay," he reached for my hand then, knowing that I would need a little extra comfort when hearing Jay's name. "And I know you think you'll never be able to love like that again, but you _will._ "

This was the same talk he had given me less than a year ago when he had wanted me to start dating again.

Now he was giving me the same talk, with a different goal in mind.

"Like you were able to love someone that wasn't Camille?" I asked, knowing it was kind of a low blow, but feeling like I finally needed to let that statement out.

"You're right," he replied, his voice soft and sad, his face resigned. "I was never able to love someone the way I was able to love Camille." He kept his eyes on me though, making sure I really heard him. "But I also didn't settle down with someone I didn't love just because I thought it was time I stop looking."

I was speechless, then, because, of course, he was right.

My wedding was two weeks away, and the itch that had started between my shoulders seem to be growing in intensity everyday.

But I still wasn't ready to acknoledge it.

"Think about it," he said, knowing I didn't have the words to answer. "Just think about what I said."

I nodded, unable to verbalize that I would, but trying to show that I had, in fact, heard him.

After a few moments of comfortable, sad silence, I went back into the living room to play with Jacob while Hank stayed in the kitchen to finish preparing breakfast.

Just like he had every Sunday morning since the day Jacob and I moved in.

It was just a normal Sunday morning.

A normal Sunday morning.

But isn't that always how it is?

The day before your whole life changes is just like any other day.

When I got to the living room, I didn't even think twice before answering when my cell phone rang, even though it was an unknown number.

"Hello," I said into the receiver, but I was only half paying attention.

But then a husky, familiar voice came over the line. "Er?" he said.

And then, once again, my life split in two.

 **xoxo**

 **Let me know if you think I should continue with this!**


	2. Chapter 2

Hi all :) I am literally overwhelmed by all of the positive comments I have received on this story. Y'all took a pretty tough week and made it so much better, seriously thank you all so much. I hope the second chapter can keep your interest ;) I know it's short, but I really wanted to get something out when I finally had an earlier night. I'm on call all weekend though :( But I will do my best to keep updating! Please keep reviewing, it literally makes my day!

 **Chapter 2,**

Erin's POV

"Jay?" My voice is a whisper, and it's so low I'm not even sure I actually made a sound.

But I must have, because his familiar voice echoes over the line once again, "Er." He sighs out as he says my name again, as if, for him, saying my name is akin to breathing.

"Jay," I repeat his name again, but like him, it's all I can seem to say. It's like there are no other words in our vocabulary. No other words we can find to honor this occasion.

No other words can even come close.

All at once, there on Hank's couch, the memory of the last time I heard him say my name like that flooded back to me.

 _"Baby," he said, his voice soft and comforting. "Don't cry, okay?" He was holding my hands in his, his warm palms enveloping my cold ones. "I don't want my last memory of you to be of you crying."_

 _"I know," I said, trying and failing to stifle the tears flowing freely from my face. "I'm just going to miss you, that's all."_

 _"I'm going to miss you, too," he said, and I thought I might have seen a hint of tears coming to his eyes, too. But he reigned it in, knowing that he couldn't reveal that kind of emotion in this setting._

 _We were at the military airport, and Jay was about to lead his team onto the plane, first to a base in Germany and then to Afghanistan. He was supposed to be their fearless leader, and he wasn't about to represent himself any differently here._

 _"I love you, you know," he whispered, as he bent down to whisper in my ear as he gave me a tight hug._

 _"I know," I replied. I had been mad at first when I had found out Jay was being deployed. First at the military for taking him away from me, but then even more at Jay for not seeming as completely angry as I was._

 _Didn't he remember what happened to us the last time? It nearly broke us._

 _I knew that we were stronger this time. We had been married two years, a commitment that had meant everything to both of us. No one was going to run this time._

 _But still. I expected him to be angry, or scared, or_ something. _Like I was._

 _But he seemed to be okay with going back. 'They need me,' he had said. As if_ that _was supposed to make me feel better._

 _"I love you, too," I said, finally, wanting to prolong our goodbye as long as possible._

 _We held each other for a long time then, my tears still falling freely against my cheek, warming my face and serving as a stark contrast against the Chicago winds._

 _After what seemed like an eternity, but also not nearly long enough, Jay pulled back. "I have to go," he said, his voice filled with a sadness and regret I hadn't heard come from his lips in a long time._

 _"Okay," I said, trying to be strong for him._

 _"Goodbye, Er," he whispered, and then he kissed my forehead, wiped a tear from my cheek, and slowly, slowly turned and walked away._

 _I watched him walk with his small, camoflauge green bag, dropping it off near the other ones and moving towards his post. He had packed so light, and when I tried to add a winter coat to his pile of things, he had had to remind me of the fact that he wouldn't exactly need it where he was going._

 _Still in the Chicago cold, I tightened my parka around me, and continued to cry large, silent tears. I wrapped my arms around my body, hugging myself tightly. I'm not sure if I was trying to warm my shivering body, or if I just needed the comfort of having someone's - anyone's, even my own - arms wrapped around me._

 _He hadn't wanted his last memory of me to be crying, but that had been exactly what he'd gotten._

 _I was lucky, though. Because my last memory of him was of him saluting his men, looking strong, handsome, tough, protective - all the things I loved about him - and then leading his team onto the plane._

 _He sent me one final wave before closing the door, and then that was it._

 _That was the end of our life together._

Until now.

Jay spoke again, and at the same time, Paul, who must have sensed my distress, placed a comforting hand on my knee.

My husband's voice and my fiance's touch simultaneously dragged me back to reality, but then, I wasn't really sure if this _was_ reality.

Was I dreaming?

I had had this dream so many times before. And not just when I was sleeping. I would be lying in bed and I would _swear_ I heard Jay's footsteps on the stairs. Or I would turn over in bed and I could see his shadow flit across our bedroom door. Or the wind would pick up outside and I would be convinced that the slamming screen door was really Jay trying to get in.

"Is it really you?" Jay asked, interrupting my thoughts and dragging me back to reality once again.

It seemed like such a ridiculous question, I almost found myself laughing. Is it _me?_ Of course it was me! Who else would it be? I'm the one who's been here the whole time. I'm not the one who _died._

But I didn't laugh. Instead, I reached out and placed my hand over Paul's and tried to stifle the tears that were threatening to spill from my eyes, "Yes." Paul was looking at me, and I could tell he was so worried. "It's me." And then, because I couldn't help myself, I repeated his question, "Is it really you?"

"God, it's good to hear your voice," he said, in lieu of answering my question.

Then, unable to hold them in any longer, my tears came. Loud, awful sobs that immediately silenced Jacob and caused Hank to run in from the kitchen.

I'm not even sure what happened next. I think Paul took my hand, and Hank took my phone.

And then I think I began to hyperventilate. Paul wrapped his arms around me, and without giving it a second thought, I melted into his embrace. After the past year, I had become so comfortable there. I let him hold me the way I like to be held, I let him stroke my arm the way I like it to be stroked, but I continued to cry.

Hank moved into the kitchen, his hushed voice barely audible in the living room. But I picked up pieces of the conversation, and right away I was able to realize he wasn't talking to Jay anymore.

But he was talking _about_ Jay.

"When?" He asked the person on the other line. He pauses for a few beats, presumably waiting to hear the answer, and I quite literally held my breath until I heard Hank continue. "We'll be there," he said, his voice sounding final, and then only a moment later he reappeared in the living room.

"What's going on?" Paul spoke before I could, the only adult in the room who wasn't already in the know. But even though it was Paul who asked the question, Hank's eyes never left mine and he took a long pause before he was able to open his mouth and answer.

"I just spoke to a doctor in Germany," he said, his voice half full of wonderment, half full of concern. "Jay's alive," he shook his head, slowly as if he couldn't even believe he was delivering this information. "And he's coming home."

It was only when I heard the words confirmed by my father figure that I finally believed them. That I finally understood that I wasn't dreaming after all.

And then, I passed out.

000000

It was nearly three hours before I was able to form any words again. Paul had driven me home, only after asking Hank to keep Jacob for a few hours and getting him set up in my old bedroom for a nap. We had driven in silence and then he helped me out of the car, putting his arms around me and steadying me, treating me with the same gentle care which which he constantly treated my son.

"What can I do?" He asked calmly, after depositing me on the couch and covering my body in a blanket. "What do you need?"

"I don't know." I knew that after the hours of silence, I owed Paul more than _I don't know,_ but I just couldn't find it in myself to form any other words. It was like my brain has literally stopped functioning.

"Okay," he said softly, leaning down and brushing my hair out of my face before resting his lips against my forehead.

Then he moved briskly out of the living room, and returned two minutes later with a glass of scotch on the rocks and a Hershey's with almonds chocolate bar. My two favorite things when I'm feeling down.

See, here's the thing about Paul. I'm not just with him because he is an amazing person. And I'm not just with him because he cares about me and my son. And I'm also not just with him because he loves me.

I'm with him because I love him, too. I _love_ Paul.

I'm not _in_ love with him the way I was in love with Jay, but I have always known that. And I've never tried to force the issue, I've never fooled myself into thinking I could be in love with him.

Because I could never be in love with anyone that wasn't Jay Halstead. He had my heart the first day I met him, and no one else has held a candle to him ever since.

But I do love Paul. Because in the past year, he's become my very best friend.

So he when he joined me on the couch, and he opened his arms to me, I fell into them. I fell into them and, once again, I wept.

"Sweetheart," he whispered softly in my ear, as he opened the wrapper for me, as if I realize _was_ a child. "I don't know what to say to help you," he pauses for a long while then, as if he is literally searching for the magic words. "But I want you to know, I'm here for you and I support you 100%." He reaches for my hand and squeezes it before adding the last part. "No matter what you decide."

 _No matter what you decide._

If such a thing was possible, at those words, I cried even harder.

 _No matter what you decide._

For some reason, in the span of the last three hours, he had realized what was only just occurring to me.

I had a _decision_ to make.

I had a fiance, I had finally found it within myself to build a _life._ And Paul was a part of it.But I also had a husband. A husband named Jay Halstead. And, so, whatever decision I made was going to leave two people heartbroken.

One of those two men, and then also, me.

Because either I would lose the person I had to come to think of as my best friend, or I would lose the love of my life.

Again.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	3. Chapter 3

Hope you all had a wonderful weekend :) Happy reading!

 **Chapter 3,**

Erin POV

I used to read a lot about grief. I had never been big on therapy, and in the past, instead of acknowledging my feelings, I would shove them away, finding solace at the bottom of an empty bottle.

But when Jay died, I didn't have the luxury of swallowing a handful of pills. I was five weeks pregnant with a baby that was half him and half me, and the last thing I would ever do was damage the last piece of him that I had left. The _only_ piece of him that I had left.

So instead, I read a lot about grief. Books, magazine articles, blogs, advice columns, I read them all.

One of the books I came acorss had an entire chapter designated to falling asleep. It was full of tricks to help you get a good night sleep, to block out the world, if only for a little while, and manage to get some rest. According to the author, a psychologist from California, falling asleep alone was often the most difficult thing for a new widow to do. Evidently, nights alone were often the hardest part of the day.

Hank and Kim must have though that, too, because they always offered to stay with me, to keep me company late into the night. Kim had even offered to sleep over, to take up residence on my side of the bed, since she knew I had already began sleeping on Jay's side.

They must've thought that the king size bed we shared would feel too vast, too empty without him. That being alone would feel insurmountable, and that the bed might just be able to swallow me whole.

But actually, falling asleep sleep had never been difficult for me.

Because really, that wasn't it at all. Sure, my bed may have seemed to stretch on forever, and my blanket no longer kept me warm enough without the presence of Jay's legs wrapped around my own.

But that wasn't the hardest part of my day. Not even close.

After all, my bed still smelled like him. At night, I would inhale the scent of his pillow, and I would close my eyes and I could almost feel him next to me in the dark. And, to be honest, I was so delirious, so bone-tired from missing him all day long, that I was able to drift off without a second thought.

So, no. Falling asleep wasn't the hardest thing I had to do.

The hardest thing I had to do as a widow was waking up.

Waking up and facing another day without my husband.

So I was surprised later that night when I couldn't fall asleep. I kept tossing and turning, completely unable to find a comfortable position in my _very_ comfortable bed, my thoughts full of Jay.

Why hadn't I asked Hank _when_ Jay was coming home? It could have been a week. It could be tomorrow. He could have be on a plane right then.

Then I found myself wondering why I hadn't thought to ask Jay for his phone number, or a way to contact him. Maybe if I knew his phone number, I could have called him right then. I could have allowed his soothing voice to lull me to sleep.

But I knew that wasn't going to happen. So instead, I sat up in bed and flipped my pillow over, inhaling the scent of the cool side that had previously been against the mattress.

Or really, I had flipped Jay's pillow. It had been two years, and it didn't actually smell like Jay anymore, but it was still _his._

It was one of the few concessions I had made when transitioning to my new life.

I still slept in his clothes, and I still slept on his pillow.

I remember the day I had been forced to make those decisions.

 _"Erin," I was sitting across from Hank in his kitchen, eating a bowl of chili that he had made for us for dinner. "I've been thinking..."_

 _His voice trailed off, but I didn't fill the silence. Hank had been trying to say something to me for days now, and I needed him to just get on with it._

 _"Just say it," I said, when he didn't continue._

 _"I think you should move out of your apartment-"_

 _Before he could continue the rest of his sentence, I cut him off. "No," I said, complete certainty in my voice._

 _"Kid, listen," he said, seemingly not surprised at all by my adamant and immediate refusal. "I know you love your apartment." I shook my head at that statement, because if that wasn't the biggest understatement in the world, I'm not sure what was._

 _"But kiddo," he said, his voice softening, "Nadia died there, and now Jay." His voice trailed off again, but this time I stayed quiet, unable to piece together words. "I just think you and your baby deserve a fresh start."_

 _I took a deep breath, and tears filled my eyes. I knew he was right. It was just... "That apartment's been my only constant," I whispered, surprising both Hank and myself by saying those words aloud, instead of keeping them tight against my heart like I had in the past._

 _"That's not true," Hank said, covering my hand with his own before squeezing it gently._

 _I gave him a sad smile, letting him know I understood what he meant._

 _"Move in here," he said, "You can have your old room, and we'll put the baby in Justin's room." When I didn't answer right away he added, "We can do this. Together."_

Together.

 _I knew in that moment that I would say yes to this. To_ all _of this._

 _Even if it meant I had to leave my apartment, the place where I had made so many memories with Jay, behind. Even if it meant I would have to leave the king sized bed that we shared together, because it would never fit in my old room at Hank's. Even if meant saying goodbye to my quiet moments alone, breathing in the air that Jay and I used to breath together, inhaling the scent of his pillow, as I slept on his side of the bed._

 _"Okay," I whispered, a tear flowing freely down my cheek._

 _I had to say yes. Because I really was going to need the help._

 _And because Hank was right. He would always be my constant._

 _And I would just have to bring Jay's pillow._

"Sweetheart," Paul's voice broke the silence, and I stayed quiet, expecting him to follow up that _Sweetheart_ with a question of some kind.

But he didn't. But then, he had already asked me if there was anything he could do, and he knew me well enough to know the answer would be the same if he asked again.

So, instead, I spoke up, trying to make this part a little bit easier on him. "I can't sleep," I said, my voice clear, but full of exhaustion.

"I know," he whispered back. He turned, trailing his fingers up and down my back, no doubt trying to calm me. I had lived with Paul for nearly a month at this point, and he knew I could sleep like a champ, that this was particularly unusual for me.

After several moments of silence, his words echoed through the darkness of our bedroom once again. "Erin," he said, his voice even lower than before, and this time much, much sadder.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning towards him, hating to hear the sadness in his voice.

"If it was Tracy..."

"I know," I sighed, not making him finish that sentence. "I know."

Neither one of us said any more, but somehow Paul's words managed to lift a huge weight from my chest, and I was finally, _finally_ able to succumb to sleep.

When I woke up, my eyes adjusted to the light, to the the sun streaming through the translucent blinds in our bedroom, and I immediately noticed that his arms were still wrapped around me.

"Paul!" I jumped up, shaking him awake. "Honey, wake up!"

Paul called me sweetheart, and I called him honey.

He _never_ called me Er, knowing that that was something I wouldn't be able to hear coming from anyone else's lips. And I called him honey, because that was one pet name Tracy had never used.

Sometimes I wondered if that's why we fit together so well. Because of our mutual understanding, and our shared loss.

Because we were both one half one a much greater whole.

A whole that would never be whole again.

"What's wrong?" He said, his eyes bulged as his breathing began to labor. "Are you okay? What's going on?"

"It's..." I stopped speaking, looking around for the clock, not knowing _exactly_ what time it was, but knowing Paul _never_ slept past sunrise on Mondays. "7:30!"

I didn't have to be at work until 9, and I couldn't imagine that Hank was actually expecting me to show up. But Paul was an orthopaedic surgeon at Chicago Med and Monday was one of his two early days of the week. His first surgery was usually scheduled for 7:30, and he liked the round and see his patients _before_ he began his day.

"Erin," he said, immediately relaxing back into the warm sheets. "You scared the _shit_ out of me."

"Don't you have a case this morning?" I asked, even though I alread knew the answer. He was operating on a teenager who had torn his ACL six months before while playing varisty soccer. The kid had had his surgery at another hospital in rurual Illinois, but he had recurrent instability and continue to have pain well after it was supposed to have healed. So he had been referred to Paul for a second opinion, which had turned into a second surgery. I also knew she had three more cases scheduled after that one.

"I moved my first case to Friday, and I asked Bobby to cover the other three," he said, his voice much calmer now.

I smiled down at him from my seated position. "You didn't have to do that," I said, but I was surprised at how little I meant it, how happy I was he had opted to stay home.

"I wanted to drive you to the hospital," he said, as he reached for my hand and laced my fingers between his. "I'll stay in the car," he said, quickly, as if he might think he was overstepping with his gesture. "I just wanted to make sure you got their safely."

"The hospital?" I asked, genuinely confused, my throat suddenly dry.

"Yeah," he said, now reaching out to touch my cheek. "Jay's being helicoptered to Chicago Med this morning."

"What... How do you... I mean how did you... what?" My mind was racing, and my words weren't able to keep up.

"Hank told me," he explained, "After I put you in the car, when I was bringing in Jacob's change of clothes from the car."

"Oh," was all I managed to say.

He didn't push, but instead let me sit in silence, my heart racing as fast as my thoughts.

I was nervous, and anxious, and uneasy, and restless.

And _excited._

"You know I love you right?" he said.

"Yeah," I said, knowing he needed the validation more than I did.

"Okay," he said, shifting back into a seated position and swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. Then he stood up, still dressed on in plaid pajama pants, turned to me and said, "Let's go see your man."

I couldn't help the smile that escaped my lips.

I was really, _really_ excited.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Hi all :) Happy new year to all that celebrate!

Happy reading :) :)

 **Chapter 4**

Erin POV

It's an hour later when Paul pulls into the employee parking lot and parks his silver BMW in his designated spot less than fifty feet from the employee's-only door. It always struck me as odd that Paul had this assigned parking spot, one that was so close to the entrance of the hospital. I knew that orthopaedic surgery was one of the hospital's biggest money makers, as it was in most hospitals, and he _was_ the chairman of the department, but still. Orthopaedic emergencies were so rare, so few and far between, that is seemed strange that he should have one of the best parking spots in the garage. Actually, his spot was between two Ob/Gyn's, and I knew they were two doctors that _definitely_ were prone to having unexpected emergencies, often in the middle of the night.

I should know, of course. Because the doctor who parked on his left actually delivered Jacob in the middle of the night. And it _had_ been an emergency.

 _"I think I'm going to turn in," I said, standing from my spot on Hank's couch. I rubbed my eyes and stifled a yawn before continuing, "I'm exhausted."_

 _"Lindsay, you're exhausted?" Ruzek laughed into his beer. The team still called me Lindsay, even though my legal name was Erin Lindsay Halstead. After we got married, Hank thought it would be too confusing at work to have two Halsteads, so I stayed Lindsay professionally. And then after Jay died, he had offered to call me Halstead. I think he thought it would make me feel better, having a piece of him at work, as if he could somehow stay part of the team. But I had barely given it a second thought before I said no. I knew immediately that it would hurt too much to hear his name called out in the bullpen, and not have it be him responding._

 _"What?" I said, feigning confusion even though I knew exactly what he was about to say._

 _"You're tired?" Atwater finished for Ruzek, who was currently sipping slowly from his second beer. "You didn't even do anything!"_

 _That was true, of course. Ruzek, Atwater, Dawson, Olinsky, and Hank had spent the day moving me into Hank's, and they had done all the heavy lifting. Even Kim had done a significant part of the packing and unpacking while I sat on my butt and didn't contribute at all. But then, I was eight months pregnant. The mere act of being awake seemed to completely take it out of me. "How about you walk around all day on swollen ankles with a baby the size of a watermelon inside you, and then we'll talk," I replied, my voice sarcastic but teasing._

 _"Guys," Dawson whispered, pretending as if I couldn't hear him. "Don't poke the bear!"_

 _"Hey!" I said, giving him my best death stare. "You want a bear, I'll show you-"_

 _"Hey, hey, I'm only kidding," Dawson interrupted unnecessarily. I knew he wasn't being serious._

 _"I know," I said, trying and failing to stile another yawn. "And you know I appreciate all of your help, guys," I said, my voice much more sincere this time around. Then my voice dropped to a whisper before I added, "I don't know what I'd do without you," I turned my head so that I was facing everyone, making sure they all knew they were included in the sentiment. "I don't know what I'd do without any of you." I paused again, the exhaustion making the tears come a lot more freely. I usually really tried not to cry in front of my team. "You've always been family to me," I said, before I wiped away another stubborn tear that had escaped. "But the past seven months, you all just..." I croaked, unable to maintain my composure any longer._

 _It was Ruzek who stood up to put his arm around me. He may be the jokester, the 'kid' of our team, but he had been there for me as much as any of the rest of them. "We know," he said, as I leaned my head into his shoulder. "We miss him, too."_

 _"Get some rest, kid," Hank said, as he sent me a knowing glance. But otherwise, no other words needed to be spoken. I gave them all a soft smile, before turning and going up to bed._

 _At that point, though, my eyes were so full of tears that my vision was completely blurred. Which, theoretically, should have been fine. Theoretically, I knew every inch of Hank's house as well as I knew my own, the blueprints having been etched in my memory since they day I turned 15. But for some reason, when I made it halfway up the stairs, my breathing labored from crying, my vision blurred from the tears, I missed a step._

 _I missed a step, and then I fell._

 _Hard._

 _"Erin!" Hank must have heard the thumps, the echoes of me tumbling down the stairs, because he was there in an instant._

 _He was there, and then, shortly after, so was my entire Intelligence team. My entire Intelligence family._

 _It was fitting, I thought, that they should all be there to witness this. They were the there the day I walked into the bullpen like a zombie, eyes nearly swollen shut from crying, still dressed in my pajamas with a look of shock on my face, and told them Jay was dead. And here there were again, bearing witness as I was about to lose the next most important thing in my life._

 _It all happened so quickly after that. There was blood_ everywhere, _staining my clothes and Hank's dark wooden floor alike. Suddenly, Atwater was carrying me to Hank's truck, and blood stained his clothes too, as he stowed me safely in the backseat. Kim scooted in next to me, holding me as Hank put the sirens on and drove me to Chicago Med._

 _They must have called ahead, because Will was already there waiting for me in the emergency department, with my Ob/Gyn standing Dr. Segal right next to him. They put me in a wheel chair and whisked me up to labor and delivery as my head continued to spin._

 _My head only stopped spinning when they put me on the fetal monitor, and my baby's heart beat filled the air._

 _It was like time stopped as I listened to bu-bump, bu-bump, bu-bump of his heart. I remember closing my eyes and thinking it was the most beautiful sound in the world._

 _"You have what we call a placental abruption," Dr. Segal explained, as he moved the ultrasound probe over my large belly. I opened my eyes at the sound of his voice, but I wasn't able to process what he was telling me._

 _"What does that mean?" Hank asked from beside me. He was holding my hand, and as I looked over at him, I swear I had never seen him more terrified. Even the day Camille died, or the day I told him about Jay, neither held a candle to this moment._

 _I think it was because, in his mind, there was still something he could_ do. _But at the same time, there was still so much that could go wrong._

 _"It means the placenta has prematurely separated from the uterine wall," Dr. Segal explained, as if that meant_ anything _to us. He must have sensed our confusion, because he began to explain in words we could understand. "This can be dangerous for you, and for the baby. You don't realize, because the blood is mostly contained between the placenta and wall of the uterus, but you're actively losing a lot of blood right now. But also the placenta provides oxygen to the baby, and-"_

 _"What do we do, Doc?" Hank asked, interrupting his second explanation. Clearly we didn't have time for this explanation, and really, what did it matter anyway? It was bad. That much we understood._

 _"It's my recommendation that we take you for a C-Section right away, Erin," he said._

 _"Is there time to give the baby steroids?" Will asked._

 _"Steroids?" I asked, confused, my head back to spinning around._

 _"To develop the baby's lungs," Will explained, his eyes moving from me back to the doctor._

 _"I don't think so, no," he answered. "We have to weigh the risks and benefits to waiting. Erin's losing blood as we speak-"_

 _"I don't care about me," I said, adamantly. "Save my baby, then worry about me."_

 _"Erin, no," Hank's voice was soft, but scolding._

 _"Erin, listen," Dr. Segal continued. "My recommendation is for you_ and _for the baby. Your baby is 35 weeks, and at this point, I think the he's safer outside the uterus than inside."_

 _I thought about his words. Dr. Segal had done my very first ultrasound seven months before. He had held my hand as I broke down and cried that first day when I had heard the heartbeat for the very first time; that first day when it finally became real. I was going to have this baby, and I was going to have him alone. "Okay," I whispered, terrified but trying to keep my voice clear. I trusted Dr. Segal with my life, and I trusted him with my baby's life. "Okay," I repeated, stronger this time._

 _"I know this isn't how you imagined this was going to go," Dr. Segal said, his soft blue eyes locked on mine. "But I promise you, I am going to do everything I can to take care of you and your baby."_

 _I laughed, then. It was a completely inappropriate reaction, but I just couldn't help it. I couldn't hold it in._

 _It wasn't supposed to be happening this way. I wasn't supposed to have an emergency C-Section._

 _And I certainly wasn't supposed to have an emergency C-Section without Jay by my side._

 _So really,_ none _of this was happening as I imagined._

 _"Okay," I whispered a third time. I signed the consent forms as I was rolled back to the operating room. They prepped and draped me, and then brought Hank in to sit by my head, as Dr. Segal and his resident got to work._

 _Six minutes later, my son was born._

 _I cried the whole time._

"Do you want me to wait here?" Paul's voice, once again, brought me back to reality.

It was like I couldn't control it lately. Memory lane had been opened, and there seemed to be nothing I could do to stop the memories from flooding in. There were just so many moments that Jay had missed.

There were so many things I needed to tell him.

"Don't be silly," I said, hoping my voice didn't betray any hint of the devastation that seemed to overwhelm me with that last memory. "Come in with me." He raised his eyebrows in confusion before I added, "I know you want to go check on your patients. And that way, I can find you after."

I regretted the words the moment they left my mouth.

 _After._

God. I hadn't even thought about what was going to happen _after._

Was Jay going to stay in the hospital? Would he come home with me?

Would I introduce him to Jacob?

Jesus, how on earth was I going to tell him about Jacob?

As if he sensed my impending meltdown, Paul grabbed me by both shoulders and turned my body to face him. "Erin," he focused his eyes on mine. They were hazel, nearly the same shade as my own. "Take it one step at a time, okay?"

"Okay," I said, shakily. I hated feeling this vulnerable, even with Paul, my best friend. I felt as if I was completely split open in two. "Okay."

"You can do this," he said, before leading me to the door. "You're the strongest person I know."

"Thanks," I whispered, even though I knew it wasn't true.

We took the employee elevators up together, but he stayed in the elevator when I got off on the first floor. He was likely continuing up to the sixth floor where the majority of the orthopaedic surgery patients were housed.

When I get off, I immediately moved towards the emergency department in search of Will.

He found me before I found him. "Erin," I heard him shout my name across the nurse's station, and then before I knew it, he was standing in front of me, wrapping his arms around me in a hug.

"Where is he?" I ask, wasting no time with preamble.

"He's thirty minutes out," he answered, finally releasing me from the hug and looking straight into my eyes. "He'll be here soon."

"He'll be here soon," I repeated, my words full of wonder. It was like every moment leading up to his arrival it was becoming more and more real. I was no longer in my little cocoon with Paul.

I was in the hospital, and this was really happening.

 _How is he?_ I almost asked. But then I couldn't bring myself to ask the question that had been on my tongue all morning.

I was too afraid of the answer.

So instead, I stood silently and allowed Will to usher me to the staff lounge, and deposit me into one of the plastic chairs.

He sat down next to me, quiet as a mouse.

And then, we waited.

0000

Exactly thirty-two minutes later, Will got the call. He stayed on his cell phone for no more than ten seconds before hanging up. "His helicopter's landing."

 _Oh my god._

I followed him into the elevator, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. He pressed the button for the roof, leading me to the helipad where my husband was about to arrive.

 _My husband._

As I watched the helicopter land gracefully onto the roof, my anxiety and fear seemed to completely melt away. Instead, I was left with a huge smile on my face.

I was going to see my husband.

 _Finally._

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

I know this is a little different than my usual, it's definitely a little slower and there a lot more flashbacks, but I hope you don't mind the build up! Drop me a review and let me know what you think so far :) :)


	5. Chapter 5

Hi everyone :) This chapter is super short, but I know a lot of you were disappointed that I didn't put Erin and Jay seeing each other at the end of the last chapter and I wanted to get this one out as soon as possible.

Honestly though, I was just really struggling with the scene and trying to make it perfect and I didn't want to just tack it onto the bottom of the chapter just to get it over with. That being said, I do finally feel like I am happy with the scene and am ready to share it. I hope it was worth the wait :) Let me know what you think!

 **Chapter 5**

Erin POV

It's not until I saw the paramedics carrying a stretcher out of the large red helicopter that I realized that all of my unanswered questions - the _how do I tell him about Jacob_ or the _how do I tell him about Paul_ questions - were the absolute _wrong_ questions to be thinking.

The wind was wipping my long brown hair into my face, mostly obscuring my view. I had two pony tail holders on my wrist, I never left home without them, but I was too frozen to think about that. So I shoved my hair out of my face and began moving forward.

The whole time, I was brushing my hair out of the way, trying to angle my face so that I could see Jay.

Why wasn't he moving?

As I moved towards the two paramedics unloading the stretcher, my mind began to race as fast as my heart.

It had been three years since Jay had been presumed dead.

Where had he been? What had he been through?

Was he okay?

Why hadn't that been my very first question?

I could hear the pounding of my own heart above the sound of the helicopter, and it began to pound so loudly in my ears that I was sure everyone on the rooftop could hear it.

I rested my hand against my chest, as if trying to quiet the sound, and that's when I finally caught a glimpse of Jay.

I could only see the top of his head at first, but right away I noticed that he looked well kempt. His hair was perfectly cut to the style it had been when he left, not a piece out of place.

When they turned him, I noticed that his body was covered by a blanket. But then as I continued to move closer, I began to see the edges of his face. That's when I noticed that his face was black and blue. There was evidence of old and new bruises sprinkles across his face and his clean-shaven jaw.

I stopped momentarilty in my tracks, overwhelmed at the sight of him, as I began to trace his face with my eyes.

 _That's_ when I noticed that his eyes were closed.

And, _that's_ when I began to run.

"Jay," I yelled, moving faster than I have ever moved in my life. I didn't stop running until my hand found the warmth of his cheek, until the spark of his touch ran through my entire body, stopping me in my tracks once again.

I stared down at him, taking in his broken appearance. He had several scratches above and below his left eyebrow, his nose seemed slightly crooked, like it may have broken at one point. His chiseled jaw had a bruise that was yellowing right next to a brand new purple one.

"Oh my god," I said, to no one in particular. With the hand not pressed against his cheek, I began to reach for the blanket, eager to pull it down and examine the rest of him.

I needed to know how badly he was hurt. I needed to know how to make it better.

I needed to know why he wasn't _awake._

"Ma'am," one of the paramedics lightly intercepted my hand, but instead of letting it go, he squeezed it in his own, almost as if he was trying to refocus me, to bring my attention to him instead of my husband, who was lying batter and bruised on the stretcher.

It didn't work though. I only had eyes for Jay.

"Ma'am," he repeated again, but it was no use.

"What's going on?" Will appeared beside me, taking in Jay's appearance. I could tell he was trying to keep his voice strong and steady, and it reminded me of the day I gave birth to Jacob. Will was always by my side, trying to be strong and steady for the both of us.

"Maybe we should talk in private," the other paramedic said in response to Will's question.

 _That_ brought me to attention. " _No,"_ I all but yelled out. I rolled in the tears that were threatening to fall and made sure my eyes were strong and fierce before continuing. "He's my _husband._ You have to tell _me_ what's going on."

He seemed to weight his options before continuing. "He's sedated," the paramedic replied, plainly. "He should be waking up shortly."

Dr. Choi came up behind Will, dressed in his maroon scrubs and his white coat. "We have a bed for him ready to go," he said, talking to all of us at once. "Let's bring him in."

"Why is he sedated?" I asked, unmoving.

Both of the paramedics looked at me, before turning to Dr. Choi. Clearly Dr. Choi had been briefed on the situation, because he nodded at them, evidently giving them permission to speak.

"Lt Colonel Halstead had a panic attack when he got on the helicopter, and we thought it best to sedate him during the ride," the paramedic explained.

 _What?_ "A panic attack?" The question escaped my lips before I could think better of it. But honestly, that didn't sound like my Jay. I'd never seen Jay have a panic attack in my life. He may have lost his cool on occasion, specifically when he was in the interrogation room with someone who was suspected of hurting a kid, but he was _always, always_ in control.

"The last time he had been on a helicopter was three years ago," the other paramedic explained, his voice slow and calm. "And that one-"

"Crashed." I finished the sentence for him. "That one crashed."

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, solemnly, avoiding my gaze.

I took a deep breath, and tried to shove the anxiety away. It had been creeping in slowly but surely, but since I saw his eyes closed, I couldn't seem to keep it at bay. I was struggling to keep the tears at bay, too.

A sudden wave of nausea overtook me before I spoke again. I had put off the question long enough, and now I finally just _needed_ to know. "Where has he been since then?"

Whatever the answer is, I could handle it.

"That might be a question you'll want to ask your husband, ma'am," he said, trying to avoid my question entirely.

"No," I replied, the anxiety inside was no match for my complete desperation to have an answer. _Any_ answer.

Once again, the paramedic paused, as if trying to determine what the right move was. He must have decided I meant business, because he finally took a deep breath before continuing. "He was apprehended by enemy troups that day," he said slowly, clearly searching for the right words. "He was rescued from their prison two days ago."

 _Their prison._

 _Two days ago._

I lost my breath, and I almost lost my footing, but thankfully Dr. Choi managed to sling an arm around my waist and stabilize me.

"I-, what-" I tried to speak, searching for words, _any_ words, that would clarify the situation for me.

But then I stopped speaking, realizing I no longer wanted clarity. I didn't want them to give me another stupid answer to another stupid question. No answer they had would change the fact that my husband spent three years as a prisoner of war.

And as it turned out, I _couldn't_ handle it.

I couldn't handle it, at all.

000000

We were moved into the biggest room in the Chicago Med ICU, the room saved for the sickest of the sick, or for the VIPs.

I wasn't sure which one Jay was. And I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.

I hadn't spoken in an hour. Will had tried to hug me, tried to speak to me, but whenever I tried to answer, no words would come out.

Eventually, we both stopped trying.

Now that the blanket had been removed from Jay, I was able to appreciate the rest of his injuries. His left arm was in a sling, and his left leg was in a very long white plater cast. The sling and the cast looked clean, as if they had just been put on. His right limbs had a few old scratches and bruises, and there was a fresh cut on his right forearm, but overall they both looked okay.

His upper body was still covered in an ARMY t-shirt, and I knew when he took it off, the smattering of bruises over his ribs would likely be the worst of all.

I knew this, of course, because the day he had been tortured, the day that brought me out of my drug-filled sabbatical and back to him, his chest and abdomen had taken the worst of the beatings.

God, watching that video of him being tortured, that day had been the worst day of my life. And that had only been one _day_.

This was three _years._

He'd been gone three _years._

At this point, I was pretty sure nothing could make me feel better, ever, _ever_ again. I took a deep breath before laying my head down on the bed. I placed my hand gingerly in his hand, and closed my eyes. The tired, dry eyes that had yet to shed a tear since I first laid eyes on Jay.

I was wrong, though. Because a few minutes after I closed my eyes, I felt Jay's hand squeeze my own.

And then, I heard the sound of his voice, "Er?"

And then, I looked up and saw his sky blue eyes fixed on mine.

And then, I saw him smile.

And that smile, well that smile made _everything_ better.

"Hi," he whispered, and suddenly it was like no time had passed at all. When he looked up at me it was as if the funeral, and the unending grief, and the moving into Hank's, and everyday at work without him as a my partner, and everyday at home without him as my husband... it all melted away.

 _Everything_ melted away.

"Hi," I whispered back, my heart skipping a beat.

"I missed you," he said softly, reaching out and touching my face, tracing my cheek as if to make sure I was real. As if to make sure this was _actually_ happening.

"I missed you, too," I replied, and it was the biggest understatement of the century.

All at once, we couldn't tear our eyes away from each other. The intensity of our gaze reminded me of that first night we had spent out together, when I had invited him to my high school reunion. When he looked at me with his soft, understanding eyes, I had felt my entire body being pulled to him like a magnet, and in that moment, nothing else in the entire world mattered.

Nothing else mattered now, either.

He bent his head towards me, ever so slowly, never moving his blue eyes from mine.

I could tell he wanted to kiss me, but I was suddenly overcome by this irrational fear that if I closed my eyes to kiss him, he might disappear.

I might open my eyes to realize this was all a dream.

He must have sensed my panic, because he leaned closer, ever so slightly, and whispered, "I'm not going anywhere." He touched my cheek again, harder this time, using his physical touch to give me the reassurance he could tell I needed, before repeating the words once again, "I'm not going anywhere ever again."

We kissed then.

Our lips touched and my world stopped.

Our kiss was full of love, and tenderness, and passion, but it was also full of longing, and yearning, and desperation.

His hands found my waist and after a moment he deepened the kiss, running his tongue over the inside of my lips and cheeks as I continued to savor every last trace of his flavor.

It was familiar but new at the same time, comfortable but exciting, safe but dangerous. It was every contradiction I could think of, and it put me completely as ease. Because that was exactly how it had always been with us.

The minute our lips broke apart, I was tempted to start another kiss immediately. I wanted to run my fingers down his body and kiss every bruise, every scratch, every _inch_ of him. But I stopped myself, and I left my hands by my side, unsure of what _exactly_ he could handle.

As passionate and heated and wonderful as I knew another kiss could be, I also knew it could also be asking a little too much.

As if he was reading my mind once again, he slowly pushed my hair behind my ear and allowed his fingers to linger on the side of my face. I leaned into him, my eyes never leaving his.

We held each other's gaze for several minutes before either of us found it in us to speak aloud. Even then, my words came out breathy and disjointed. "Are you okay?"

It was a stupid question. It was too small, in a situation too large. But it felt like the only way to start.

"I am, now," he replied, leaning in and kissing my forehead. "I am, now."

And _that's_ when the tears came.

 **xoxo**

 **Please drop me a review and let me know what you think :) Thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Jay's POV

I made it back to Erin.

It almost doesn't feel real. It's been one thousand, one hundred, and forty seven days since I had to say goodbye to her and get on that plane. It's been one thousand, one hundred, and forty seven days since I kissed her that last time.

And every day since, I've been counting down the days until I would get to do it again.

Even in the darkest moments, even on the days that I was _sure_ I would never make it out alive, the memories of Erin gave me strength. She kept me waking up every day, pushing forward, persevering, until I made it back to her.

And, somehow, I did it. I don't know, but I did. I made it back to her.

And when I looked into her eyes in that hospital room, when I pressed my lips against hers, I knew right away, it was all worth it. Every bruise, every break, every living nightmare, every terrible moment, it was worth it to get back here.

I can't even imagine what it must have been like for her. I didn't know I was presumed dead until my rescue, until a soldier identified me and then did a double take.

 _"Lt Colonel Halstead?" He said, seemingly confused. "Is it really you?"_

 _My bruised ribs were aching so badly it hurt to breath, but I didn't care. Breathing in that clean, fresh air for the first time in almost three years, it was worth every sharp pain that accompanied it. "Yes," I replied, not even looking at him. I was looking around, taking in my surroundings, appreciating the sun on my face for the very first time in what truly felt like forever._

 _"Is Sergeant Gates with you?" He asked, and it was only when I heard Mitchell Gates' name that I actually turned to face the soldier. He was tall and thin, with brown hair that was cut short against his head._

 _"No," I whispered, after several moments of silence._

 _I don't know if I would consider Mitch as one of the lucky ones or not. Maybe if you had asked me the day before, I would have counted him as the luckiest of all. "He died on impact," I said, my voice betraying none of my inner turmoil._

 _Mitchell Gates had died the day the helicopter crashed, the impact killing him immediately. I had tried to save him, staunching the blood with both of my hands. It was only when I lifted one hand from his wounds and pressed my fingers against his neck that I realized it no use, he was already gone. He had died peacefully, before the days of starvation, before the days of torture, before any of the rest of it. So yeah, maybe the day before I would've said he was one of the lucky ones._

 _But as I stood there with the soldier that had just rescued me, I realized he wasn't. Because Mitchell Gates wasn't about to board a plane to go home and see his girl._

 _"Lt Colonel Halstead," the soldier spoke up again._

 _"Call me Jay," I said, not wanting to waste time with formalities. Besides, no one had called me that name in a long time._

 _"Jay," he said, but my name sounded awkward on his tongue. Soldiers were never good at calling superiors by their first names. "Sir, I'm not sure how to tell you this." His eyes remained on mine, but I could tell it was a struggle. It was one of the things they taught you in the military: how to maintain good eye contact. But I could tell this kid wanted to be anywhere but here, doing anything but delivering_ this _news._

 _"Just tell me," I said, not really wanting to know. I wasn't sure I could take any more bad news._

 _"When the helicopter crashed three years ago," he said, slowly, "Sergeant Gates was presumed missing." He looked away then, as he delivered this last piece of news. "And you were presumed dead."_

That was the first I had heard that, and honestly, I'm glad I hadn't known before. It's hard to spend every day thinking that your loved one is waiting for you, the guilt that settles in is almost unbearable. But at least it gives you a goal, it allows you to stay alive and to _fight_ for something.

I don't know, though. I probably would've fought just the same.

And, well, as I sat in the hospital room, my favorite person in the world tucked underneath my good arm, I knew that either way, it would've been worth it.

"Er," I whispered into her hair. She was snuggled into my side in the hospital bed, fast asleep. She definitely needed the rest, and I wouldn't have woken her, but the nurse was finally there to take me for my scans. One of the doctors was supposedly going to come and take the cast off my leg before my full body X-Ray.

Apparently, they wanted to know the extent of the damage.

Oh, if they only knew.

"Erin, baby," I nudged her once again, and this time her eyes fluttered open. "Hi," I said, smiling down as I took in her beautiful hazel eyes, her beautiful smile.

I spent the last one thousand, one hundred, and forty seven days daydreaming about those eyes and that dimpled-filled smile, and damn it, my dreams did not do them justice. She was so goddamn beautiful. It nearly made everything else okay.

 _Nearly_.

"Hi," she replied, and I pressed my lips against hers, not ready to say goodbye just yet.

"They're here to take me for my X-Rays," I explained, motioning to the nurse at the foot of the bed.

Her eyes widened when she turned her head, and I could tell she hadn't noticed her before. It was as if we were the only two people in the world.

"Hi, Anna," Erin said, sitting up in the bed. I possessively kept my arms around her, even as she questioned why Anna was there.

Evidently, she was actually a pediatric oncology nurse, or something like that. "I had some time," she explained, and Erin gave her a look that said _Really? You and I both know_ that's _not true._ And so Anna further explained, "I just wanted to help."

Anna and Erin must have known each other, and I was mildly curious as to why, but I didn't bother asking Erin the question. I had missed three years of her life, and there were _lots_ of questions I was going to need to ask, and this one just didn't seem to top the list of important ones.

So instead I said, "Why don't you go get something to eat, babe? I'm sure I'll be back soon." I slid from the bed into the wheelchair as I said it, trying to act nonchalant, even though I really, _really_ didn't want to leave her side. Actually, I would pretty much say or do _anything_ to get her to join me.

She leaned down and kissed me again, seemingly just as hesitant to leave my sight as I was to leave hers. But then she nodded slowly, knowing she wasn't going to be able to come with me. "Take good care of him, okay?" She said to Anna, even though her eyes never left mine.

"I will," Anna replied, her voice soft and kind, as she wheeled me out of the room and down the hall.

000000

I layed still while they took pictures of each one of my bones. They gave me a few directions of how to angle my body for the best picture, and I easily followed each direction without a word.

I had become very good at following directions over the past three years. But then, I had also learned what happened when you _didn't_ follow them.

They were careful with me though, and quick. We made it back upstairs in less than twenty minutes, and when we got back to the room, there was already a doctor standing there.

Instead of the maroon scrubs my brother always wore in the emergency department, this doctor was dressed in a button down shirt and matching tie. His slacks were perfectly pressed and half covered by his pristine, long white coat.

"Detective Halstead," he said, before moving and reaching out to shake my hand. My right hand was out of the sling because of th X-Rays, but it was still not functioning properly, so I reached out with my left hand to shake his. "My name is Dr. Bobby Tomkins, I'm one of the Orthopaedic Surgeons here at Chicago Med."

"Call me Jay," was all I could manage in response. Since I had woken up nearly two hours before, I hadn't spoken a word to anyone except Erin. Even Anna had seemed to sense I didn't want to talk, and she had wheeled me all the way downstairs to radiology and then back upstairs to my room without saying a word.

"Jay," he said, and he began to reach out to help me move from the wheelchair to my bed.

"I got it," I said, trying to keep my voice polite and calm, but at the same time letting him know I did _not_ need helping with this. I had been through a lot more than moving myself from a wheel chair to a goddamn bed, and I wasn't an invalid.

"Okay," he said, keeping his cool and waiting for me to get myself settled before continuing. "I reviewed your scans," he spoke slowly, and I could tell he was trying to keep me calm. He must have thought he was delivering news I didn't already know. As if I hadn't just _lived_ through the injuries he was about to tell me about. "And it seems you have several breaks in your legs and ribs that never healed properly, along with the fresh break in your right arm."

"Okay?" I said, knowing I was being a little standoff-ish but not able to help it.

"I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you," he continued.

I had to literally close my mouth to keep from shouting. _Of course you can't_ , I wanted to say. _No one fucking can, so just get on with it._

He seemed to sense the words I had left unspoken, though, because he didn't wait for me to speak before continuing. "It is my recommendation that we surgically repair the breaks in your right leg, your right arm, and your ribs," he said, a little quicker this time. "We would likely split it into two surgeries," he explained, "to give your body time to rest in between."

"Okay," I said, nodding this time to let him know I was listening. I was trying to take some deep breaths to calm myself, but it just served to further aggravate my rib pain.

"I spoke to the chairman of our department, and if you are amenable, he would like to be the one to do your surgeries," Dr. Tomkins said.

"Why wouldn't I be amenable to that?" It was the first full sentence I had said aloud, and it seemed to rile everyone around me.

Before Dr. Tomkins had a chance to answer the question I had posed, Erin walked in holding two huge bags of take-out.

She was smiling wide, looking fresh and carefree and _happy_ , but her smiled seemed to falter the tiniest bit when she saw Dr. Tomkins. It was so subtle that only someone who had studied her face, only someone that knew her as well I did, would even notice. But then, the way her voice wavered when she said, "Hey, Bobby," well _that,_ everyone noticed.

"I'll give you two a minute," he said, before quickly exiting.

Erin rested the take out on the table and moved towards me, as Anna also moved towards the door.

Before Anna made her exit, she looked over her should, smiled, and said, "You have a lot of people here who are really happy your back."

I was surprised at the emotion in her voice, considering she didn't actually know me at all. "I'm happy to be back," I replied, trying to keep my voice casual, even though I was feeling anything but.

It was hard to explain, but being back felt strange. I couldn't help feeling completely out of place.

It's odd how that happens. I must have visited this place once a week, or more often than that even, _before_. And I had been perfectly comfortable walking these halls, in these rooms, for years and years, _before._

But now? Well, now these halls, these rooms, they look the exact same, but somehow they _feel_ different.

Everything _feels_ different.

 _I'm_ different.

I'm not the same man that left here three years ago, ready and eager to go to war; to fight for my country; to fight for my men.

God, I don't even _remember_ that man.

I'm the man who was tortured and beaten and starved and kept without sunlight for three years in a row. I'm the man who sat handcuffed to the wall in a solitary room for over a month while I listened to the remaining men in my unit cry out in pain, knowing there was nothing I could do to save them.

I'm the man who watched as one of my soldiers refused food, day after day, slowly committing suicide because it was the last thing in his life he _could_ control. I'm the man who almost refused the food that was finally offered after days of starvation, because I, too, just wanted it to _end._

I'm the man who begged for mercy, even though I knew mercy would never come. I'm the man who night after night cried out for a wife I knew I would never see again.

And thatman, well _that_ man doesn't feel comfortable walking these hospital halls or talking to complete strangers. Even if they are nurses and doctors that are presumably trying to help me.

But really, the only thing in my life that feels the same, the only thing I know about _this_ man that I've become, is that I love Erin Halstead.

And, that, well that's _never_ going to change.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: So I know some of you think that my chapter's are too short or that the story is moving too slow, but I am trying to stay true to the story I want to write. I know it's different than my other stories, but really, that's kind of the point. I'm enjoying experimenting with something that's different and new, and because of that, this story has been a lot more difficult for me to write. For some reason BTBR literally came pouring out of me, and this one has just been a little more difficult. I think because I don't want to use anything I've already done and so it's a lot harder to come up with fresh things every time. That and my schedule has changed. If you would like to wait longer between chapters so that they're longer, just wait until I publish two and you can read them in a row :) Maybe that will help lol.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter :)

 **Chapter 7,**

 **Erin's POV**

Everyone cleared out of the room quickly when I walked in, leaving the air charged between me and Jay. He was staring at my expectantly, _questioningly_ , and I could tell he must have heard the waver in my voice when I said hi to Bobby, the one I had hoped only _I_ had heard.

Evidently not. "Hi," my voice came out raspy, but at least it was clear this time. "Are you hungry?" I said, hoping to change the subject. We had barely exchanged ten words since laying eyes on each other, and I wasn't ready for those to be words eleven through twenty.

Jay seemed to be appraising the situation, deciding exactly how badly he wanted to pry into that exchange. But then after a moment, he seemed to dismiss it altogether, almost as if he was placing it in the _we'll get to it at some point, but it's not worth getting into right now_ category.

He couldn't possibly have known how many things _I_ had been stashing in that category.

"Starving," he answered, the rasp in his voice matching my own. His voice seemed deeper to me, more _real._

Maybe that's just because it _was_ real. I was no longer just hearing it in my dreams.

"Good," I smiled, trying to hide my sigh of relief. I avoided his gaze and began moving the rolling tray table over to his bed so he would be able to eat comfortably. "I brought your favorite."

While I adjusted the table, he adjusted his bed into a seated position. The silence that overtook the room was not the comfortable silence we had shared only an hour before; instead, it was awkward, uncomfortable, and _loaded_.

I could sense that he wanted to ask me questions almost as badly as I wanted to interrogate _him_.

But if he could exercise his self control, so could I. I would save the questions, and file them away for another time.

Even as they continued to sprout one by one in my head. Questions like, where the _hell_ had he been?

And how on _earth_ had his body been confused with someone else's?

Ever since I heard the sound of his voice on the other end of my iPhone, I had been going over and over the day of the funeral in my mind. The Colonel wouldn't allow me to see his body, and I assumed it was because they didn't want me to experience the trauma of seeing his unrecognizable face.

But now, I wonder if it was something more. They military had ways of identifying their soldiers, and they had _assured_ me that they had reviewed the dental records before declaring Jay deceased.

Hank had quite literally _asked._

But as I stared at my husband sitting across from me, taking the first bite of his burger, I couldn't help but notice that all of his teeth were _perfectly_ intact.

"Oh my god," he sighed into the sandwich, closing his eyes as he savored the bite, looking as if this was quite literally heaven on earth. Suddenly, he was the same Jay Halstead I was partnered with in Intelligence, always getting overly excited about food. "I missed this."

I couldn't help the response that came from my lips. "I missed you," I whispered, smiling up at him.

Instead of returning the smile, his lips turned into a subtle frown. And when his eyes opened, they looked so unbeliavable sad that I immediately regretted the admission. True as it was.

But whatever had taken place, whatever had caused me to presume him dead and had allowed me to miss him and grieve him over the past three years, it most certainly wasn't his fault. And he had lived the consequences worse than anyone else.

"The intelligence team missed you, too," I decided to add, hoping that would serve to lighten the mood I had accidentally dampened.

It did, because he immediately broke out into a wide grin. "You're still working in Intelligence?" He seemed relieved, and I couldn't help the way my eyebrows raised in surprise at his question.

"Of course," I replied, easily. "You think that unit could run without _both_ of us? Please." I said, allowing a playful smirk to grace my lips.

I was nervous that I hit a nerve with that comment, but his smile widened even further. "God. How _is_ everyone?"

Part of him seemed like he genuinely wanted to know. But a larger part, I think, was just relieved to have a lighter topic to discuss, happy to use this to avoid the other, more serious topics.

And as much as I wanted to delve into them, I understood that he wasn't quite ready. So instead of pressing him with the questions that seemed to be multiplying within me, I indulged him with my best Intelligence Unit gossip.

"They're good," I smiled as I pictured how happy they would probably all be today when they found out Jay was alive. That he was _home_. "Really good, actually," I continued. "Ruzek and Burgess finally got their act together and got married," I said, starting with the social news.

"What?" He gasped, genuinely surprised.

"Yeah," I laughed, dipping a french fry in ketchup and plucking it into my mouth. "It was actually all pretty sudden," I explained, as I swallowed another delicious salt-covered french fry. "I guess after the first mess, neither wanted a long engagement. They were barely together a month before they up and went to the courthouse," I went for another fry. Now that we were participating in a more casual conversation, it was like my body realized that I hadn't had a bite of food since the moment I heard Jay's voice on the other end of the phone. "We went with them, of course."

I remembered that day. It had been the happiest of their lives, and I stood next to Burgess, acting as her maid of honor. Jacob had been their 'ring bearer', and they assigned him the role just as they realized that they didn't actually have rings. I wore a nice blue dress and I smiled at all the right times.

And then I went home, _alone_ , and wept.

"Wow," Jay said, still shaking his head in shock and completely oblivious to my trip down memory lane. "I guess I owe you that twenty bucks then," he said, referencing a bet we made the first week we were married.

 _"They are not getting back together, Er," Jay shouted from the bathroom of the swanky Costa Rica hotel. We had been married less than seventy-two hours, and we had somehow convinced Hank to let us both take off a week after our wedding to go on a honeymoon._

 _"I'm sure it didn't mean anything," he said. I heard the him turn off the razor and place it on the counter as I slowly crept around the bedroom portion of the hotel._

 _"Something about weddings always makes people feel frisky," he said, and I could almost_ hear _the smirk on his face as he laughed at his own comment. He had just gotten out of the shower, and I could just picture him, white hotel towel slung low along his hips,_ nothing _underneath, smirking at his own reflection in the mirror as he thought of their slutty-wedding sex._

 _"Oh yeah?" I replied, my voice raspier than usual when I thought of my new husband standing nearly naked only a few feet away._

 _"Definitely," he said, as he began brushing away the few hairs that had fallen to his chest as he shaved, his eyes still glued to the mirror._

 _That is until I stepped in, claid in my brand new,_ very _tight, red lingerie. "Something about our wedding made me feel frisky, too."_

"I guess you do," I said, my voice suddently serious as I held his gaze. A thousand memories passed between us in that moment, and with it, the thousands of moments we had missed.

Once again, though, he seemed not ready to talk about it, and so just continued with the probing. "Who replaced me?" He kept his voice light, no doubt meaning the question conversationally, but the question seemed to catch my breath.

 _No one,_ I wanted to reply immediately.

Except, was that true?

My heart began to pound loud in my ear as I moved my gaze away from his. I began to study my fingernails, as my fingers twisted together nervously.

"I'm sorry," he said, reaching for my hand.

When he touched me, it was like he scorched my skin, and I was immediately reminded of the first time he had ever touched me. He had been helping me put on my bullet proof vest for our second raid together, and he had absentmindedly grazed his fingers across my neck. In that moment, it had taken every ounce of self control in my body not to shiver under his hands.

The same could be said for this moment.

"Don't be," I replied, trying to regain some of my composure.

"I just wanted to make sure you had someone watching your back these past three years," he said, trying to smile. It didn't reach his eyes, though.

"I did," I whispered, thinking of Paul. I may not love him the way I love the man sitting in the bed before me, but he most certainly had my back. "Hank partnered me with Antonio," I continued, because really, _that_ was all he had meant. And _that_ was all I was ready to tell him.

"Good," his hand was still covering mine, and I could tell he needed the physical contact as desperately as I did. "That makes me feel better," he said, softly. "I thought about that a lot," he looked away as he whispered the last part, almost as if he wasn't speaking to me.

And in a way, I think he wasn't. So, I took his cue and didn't respond.

We sat there in silence, polishing off our burgers and fries graceslessly with one hand, our other hand intertwined together, almost as if our fingers were glued together, almost as if we would never let go again.

I knew I wouldn't.

"So," he said after a few minutes. He looked up at me again, his blue eyes clear as the sky, and suddenly I was struck by how normal this situation was. I was sitting on a bed, eating burgers and fries from the Purple Pig, with my husband.

But it was also so unbelievably abnormal. Because the bed was a hospital bed, and my husband had an IV on his arm that was clearly visible as he placed the last bite of his burger into his mouth.

After he swallowed and used the napkin to clean his hands, he looked up at me, expectantly. "We should talk," he continued speaking, unaware of the way my mind had been analyzing every moment of his body, every breath that he inhaled, every curve of his face.

"Okay," I said, but I drew out the word into a question, almost as if to say _isn't that what we were just doing?_

He gave me the same familiar smirk and smile he always gave in response to my sarcasm, and once again, I was struck at how _normal_ this all way. How effortlessly we were able to slip back into normal conversation. How _easily_ I was able to pick up on his body language, how _easily_ he was able to pick up on mine.

But then his face turned more serious. "When you came in, Dr. Tomkins was in here. He's one of the Orthopaedic surgeons at the hospital."

Of course, Jay and I both knew that I knew Dr. Tomkins as Bobby. And of course, I knew _exactly_ who he was. He worked under my fiance.

And I also knew the _real_ reason he appeared nervous at my appearance, and why he had exited the room so quickly.

I didn't know why _Jay_ appeared so nervous, however. I watched as his forehead crinkled slightly. "He thinks I need surgery."

I couldn't tell if he was nervous because he was afraid of the surgery, or if he thought I would be afraid. I squeezed his hand and then moved it to his knee, hoping it would serve to calm his nerves either way. "Okay," I said, my voice calm. "When?"

He seemed suprised by the stillness of my voice, and maybe he should have been. But, the same way things had changed in Intelligence, a lot had changed in my personal life in the past three years. And evidently, living with an Orthopaedic surgeon seemed to dull me to some of the risks of surgery, because I wasn't just putting on a show. I really was _completely_ calm.

Bobby was a fantastic surgeon, and according to Paul, he was one of the best he'd seen in a long time. Paul had been thrilled when he'd been able to steal him away from Northwestern, the other hospital in the Chicago area. He'd been so nervous the night before their first meeting, he had slept walk into the closet and gotten fully dressed at 2 am. I had had to coax him back to bed. I had had to reassure him over breakfast that _he_ was the best, and this Bobby Tomkins would be _lucky_ to work for him.

And I hadn't even been lying.

The two of them operated all the time, and they cared so deeply about each and every patient they met, so I knew with complete certainty that he was in the best of hands.

"Well," Jay replied, his voice calmer now, too. "They want to do it in stages." He gestured towards his legs and his ribs, and I allowed him to explain, even though their was no explanation needed. The intricacies of these surgeries had become my normal dinner conversation.

"When do they want to schedule the first one?" I asked, after he finished his explanation.

"I don't know," he said, thoughtfully. "I guess they can do it whenever the chairman of the department has time in his schedule to do it."

Suddenly, the calmness evaporated and a cold sweat overtook my body. I don't know why, but I hadn't been expecting him to say that. And so I was utterly unable to stop the words that tumbled out of my mouth immediately following his admission.

"They want _Paul_ to do your surgery?" I asked, my voice louder, and noticably more unsteady than usual.

At the sound of his name, uttered by my own lips, my heart began to race.

And of course, _this_ is precisely the problem with slipping back into normal, familiar territory with Jay.

That man could read me like a book.

"Who's Paul?" Jay said, sounding as nervous as I felt.

I knew I was going to have to tell Jay about Paul. I knew the two of them were going to meet at some point. And I knew I was going to be forced into a decision very soon.

But not _now._

I wasn't prepared _now._

"Er?" He asked, and I realized several seconds must have elapsed since he asked his original question.

Jay had always been able to sense my emotions, so it was no wonder that he was attuned to my change in attitude. I just wish I was better at hiding them from him.

"He's my fiance," I whispered quietly, knowing I couldn't hide it much longer.

There were a lot of things I wasn't going to be able to hide much longer.

"Your fiance?" He repeated, and the broken sound of his voice was like a dagger to my heart.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice quieter and sadder and less sure than I, myself, had ever heard it.

And I knew at this moment, it didn't matter what decision I made, and it didn't matter the outcome.

No matter what happened, _everyone's_ heart would be shattered. And it was all starting right now.

 **Jay's POV**

I knew she was holding _something_ back. I had known from the minute her voice wavered and she called Dr. Tomkins by his first name. I had known with every lost eye contact, with every nervous glance.

But _that_ had not been what I was expecting.

Although, I'm not really sure why I was so surprised.

I may have waited for her. I may have counted down the moments until I would get to see her face again. I may have _lived_ for her, _survived_ only to get back to her. But, well, _she_ thought I was dead.

And if I truly _was_ dead, I would _never_ have expected her to wait for me.

But for some resaon, that didn't make it any less surprising. It didn't make it hurt any less. It didn't stop it from completely knocking the wind out of me. And it certainly didn't make it any easier to breath normally as _I_ now avoided _her_ gaze.

I tried to focus on a single spot in the room to help me calm my breathing, the way I had learned to do in the past three years when I had felt myself losing all hope.

That's when my eyes drifted to her left hand. There was a tan line where a ring should be, and I hadn't even noticed.

But then, I hadn't been looking.

"Jay," she whispered, and my heart broke at the sadness, the _desperation_ that was evident in her voice. "Please say something," she whispered.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came again. Once again, I tried. I really _tried._

But for some reason, it was like I had completely lost my voice.

"Jay," she removed her hand from my knee, and it suddenly felt cold. But then, the warmth was transfered to my chin as she rested her fingers there, almost as if she was willing me to move my head, to look her in the eye. "Please," she whispered again.

And because I couldn't _bear_ to hear Erin beg, I finally spoke. "It's okay," I whispered, even thought it so clearly wasn't.

My wife, my partner, my very best friend, the love of my _life_ sat before me crying, and I wasn't even able to look at her.

I couldn't bring myself to move my hand from where it laid slack at my side, I couldn't bring myself to wipe her tears with my thumb the way I _always, always_ would have in the past.

I just sat still for several moments, willing my breathing to return to normal.

"It's not okay," she croaked, the tears clearly now lodged in her throat. "I lov-"

I cut her off before she could finish that sentence. The one sentence I had been waiting desperately to hear, but now knew would be much too painful. "It is," I said, and it came out a lot more harshly then I had meant it to.

But then, I was just trying to cover up the words I _really_ wanted to say. _I love you, too, Erin. I love you, too._

She seemed to flinch at the harshness of my statement, and even though I wasn't looking at her, I could feel the sudden movement of her body in the bed, and through the motions of her hand resting against my chin.

Finally, I willed myself to look up, to find her hazel eyes and give her the reassurance she so clearly needed. Because, really, this wasn't her fault.

Except, when I found her eyes, ready to open my mouth and reassure her, I stilled once again. Because I looked past the hazel of her irises, and saw right into her soul.

And that's when I knew.

Her fiance wasn't the only thing she was hiding.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	8. Chapter 8

Hi all :) Thank you so much for all of your positive reviews and comments on my last chapter. It seriously made my week :) Just to give you a timeline - I am going to try to wrap this story up before November because once November hits, I will be on my night float rotation which means I'll be a zombie for like 2 months and I probably won't write at all :( I am going to try to update my other story Nothing to Fear, too, because I've been completely neglecting that one. Hopefully I'll be able to finish both stories by then, or at least by at a point where I don't leave you on a 2 month long cliff hanger :)

Hope you enjoy this next installment! These scenes are getting harder and harder to write because I feel like these moments would be so intense in real life. I hope I'm doing them justice!

Happy reading!

 **Chapter 8,**

 **Jay POV**

I tried to keep my face impassive, and I could tell I was mostly successful.

I guess that's what happens when you are a prisoner of war for three years. When you train your face, your body, you _mind_ to not display even a hint of the turmoil you are feeling inside.

I guess that's what happens when you've gotten damn good at hiding. The woman I love most in the world, the person I've _never_ been able to hide anything from, can't even tell how devastated, how _broken_ I feel after hearing those words.

I'm watching her, and I can tell she can't read the questions that are lingering behind my blue eyes. Like _How did you meet? How long have you been engaged?_

 _Are you in love with him?_

The last question, of course, was the most important. But it was also, seemingly, the most futile. _Of course_ she was in love with him. She was _marrying_ him.

And actually, as I continued to stare into her hazel eyes, I realized that wasn't the most important question.

 _What else are you not telling me?_

 _That_ was.

Instead of asking my questions out loud, though, I buried my questions deep, the same way I have buried and hidden every other thought and question that has sprouted in my mind the last one thousand, one hundred, and forty seven days.

Like _when are you going to finally just kill me?_ Or _please, please just let this torture end._

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to rid my mind of _those_ questions, _those_ thoughts, and to refocus on this moment.

When I opened them, I found myself staring into Erin's eyes once again, as they frantically tried to search mine. As she tried, once again, to read what's behind them.

I can't decide how I should feel about the fact she can't read me anymore. Because really, Erin is the last person I would have ever wanted to hide my thoughts and emotions from.

But maybe... maybe, that was _before._

And maybe now, we're in the after.

I finally forced myself to speak up. "Is he a good surgeon?" _Is he a good man?_

I'm not sure why that's the first question I asked, but I'm glad I kept the second one to myself.

The way her eyes widened at my words, though, I could tell that wasn't the first question she was expecting either. "The best," she whispered in response, and I'm not sure if she said that because she is trying to make me feel better, or if it is because she has a lot of pride in her fiance's accomplishments.

Either way, the sound of those two words nearly take my breath away.

 _The best._

Erin _deserved_ the best. She deserved a rich doctor who could take care of her, who could give her a family, who could be there for her in ways I wasn't sure I could be right now.

In the past three years, I knew I had become completely damaged. And as much as I wanted to fool myself into thinking everything could go back to normal, I knew they couldn't.

Because, I really _wasn't_ the same man I was before.

And just because _this_ man still loved Erin Lindsay Halstead, didn't mean he deserved to be with her.

And I wasn't sure how long it would take me to get back to being the man that deserved her. If I would _ever_ get back there.

But I sure as hell couldn't expect her to wait for me.

I guess my face finally crumbled with emotion, then. My calm facade must have melted away to reveal the completely broken man I had become, because Erin reached for me in that moment.

She took care to be gentle around my injuries, but she leaned forward and wrapped me in the tightest hug I could tolerate.

Then, she began to speak again. And this time, I let her. "I love you," she whispered softly in my ear. I could feel her breath tickling my earlobe. "I love you more than you could ever know."

Her words relaxed me a little, and the feeling of her skin pressed against mine was enough to restore my breathing back to normal. At least for the moment. "I love you, too," I replied, because at the very least, I wanted her to know that that was still true.

Even if I had already decided it was no longer enough.

 **Erin POV**

I've lived a pretty difficult life.

My very first memory is of my father being arrested, of him quite literally being _dragged_ out of the house as my mother stood strung out and shrieking at the police. The next memory I have is later that day, when I was forced to leave my favorite teddy bear behind when the landlord kicked us out of our apartment, the only home I had ever known.

And it's not like my life had gotten much easier. I lived through difficult moment after difficult moment, for as long as I can remember.

But _nothing_ in my life had prepared me to see the look on Jay's face when I told him about Paul.

At first, his face was unreadable. But slowly his resolve began to fade, and then suddenly, he was a shattered man sitting before me.

After our tender, albeit desperate declaration of love on his hospital bed, we stayed wrapped around each other for several minutes, neither of ready to part, neither of us ready to face the real world.

If it had been up to me, we would have _never_ let go. But after ten minutes, Jay pulled away.

"I want the surgery," he said, and I could tell her was trying to regain some control of his life, and at the same time, move the conversation onto safer ground.

I let him. "Okay," I said, carefully. "Do you want Paul to do it?" I asked, just as carefully. It felt strange saying his name to Jay, and I'm surprised I didn't choke over the word.

"Yes," he said, and the confidence in his voice splintered my own.

Jay was ready to meet Paul. He was ready to move this process forward.

And I guess it didn't really matter that I, most certainly, _wasn't._

"Okay," I said again, but this time my voice hitched, giving me away.

I knew he heard my uneasiness, but he didn't address it, and instead he pressed on. "Is he here?"

"Yes," I said, nodding slightly, hoping that he would assume it was just because this was Paul's _job._ That he practically _lived_ in the hospital, the way doctors who were overly involved in their patient's lives did, day in and day out. I hated though, that more than likely, I was admitting that I had _brought_ him here with me. That I had needed the support this morning, that I had needed _him._

"Okay," he sighed, completely resigned. He leaned his body back into the bed and adjusted his legs in a motion that completely separated us, and I couldn't tell if it was on purpose. "I'm ready."

I'm not sure if he was talking to himself, or to me. If he was trying to convince himself, or me. But realizing it made little difference, I stood from the bed, squeezed his hand once more, gave him one last longing look, and moved towards the door in search of my fiance.

It didn't take me long to find him, of course. He was pacing back and forth at the end of the hallway.

He had changed out of his dress clothes, and was now dressed in his dark marroon scrubs and black sneakers. He had his lucky navy blue scrub cap tied carefully around his head, and I wondered if he had visited the OR this morning in the end. I wondered if he scrubbed in on one of the cases he had previously given to Bobby.

He probably had. That was his happy place.

And the man certainly deserved some happy today.

"Paul," I said his name softly, and once again, it felt awkward on my tongue. Maybe because I usually called him honey. Or maybe because looking at him, standing before me, I knew he wasn't my _honey_ anymore.

One look at Jay Halstead and _everything_ had changed.

"Erin," he said, finally noticing me for the first time. He rushed towards me, "How are you?" He whispered the question.

Paul had this remarkable quality where his body moved quickly and in a rushed manner, but his demeanor was _always, always_ calm. It's one of the things that drew me to him in the first place. In a world where everything seemed to fluster me, he _never_ got flustered. He became my anchor, my port in the storm.

It was also one of the things that made him a fantastic surgeon. "You're going to operate on Jay?" I asked, completely ignoring his question, knowing that I didn't have the words within me to answer it.

"If that's okay," he said, reaching for my shoulder, no doubt trying to steady my breathing, which had become labored and fraught with anxiety. "With him, and with you," he finished.

"Yeah, it is," I said, quickly, hoping he wouldn't be able to sense how uncomfortable this was all making me.

He raised his eyebrow at me, no doubt questioning the truth of my statement. "He knows everything," I said. "I told him everything."

He seemed to relax at my statement, and I realized once again how _complicated_ this situation was for everyone involved. My _fiance_ was about to meet me _husband._ This was going to be as hard for them as it was for me. "Are _you_ okay with it?" I asked, trying to be mindful of his feelings, too.

"Yeah," he said, turning me slightly so that his arms slid and wrapped around my shoulder. He tightened his arm, hugging my small body against his larger frame. "I should probably go introduce myself though," once again his voice was as calm as a summer sea.

I tried to let it calm me, too. "Okay," I said. Then I took a deep breath and turned to him. "Let's go."

When we split apart and began to move towards Jay's hospital room, he absentmindedly reached for my hand, like he had done dozens of time before. He intertwined our fingers, and I couldn't help compare his smooth, slender fingers with Jay's rough, warm ones that had been in my hand only moments before.

We walked casually, but when we got closer to Jay's hospital room door, I started to lose my nerve.

"Wait," I said, as I stopped and turned to lean my body against the wall. All of a sudden, I couldn't catch my breath. "I... don't... think... I can... do... this," I continued to hyperventilate as I covered my face in my hands and crumbled against the wall. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest, and I could hear the bu-bump bu-bump sound in my ears. "I don't... think I can... do this," I repeated again, this time a little steadier.

"You can, Erin," Paul said, but this time he didn't touch me. I think because he, too, didn't want to do this.

When he woke up yesterday morning, he was engaged to me. He was two weeks away from _marrying_ me. He had a plan. _We_ had a plan.

And when he woke up this morning, even if he knew their was a hitch in the plan, he certainly didn't think he would have to _operate_ on his fiance's husband.

God, he was probably dreading this as much I was.

"Okay," I said, trying to calm myself for his benefit as much as my own. "You're right," I said, as I stood and fixed my rumpled shirt and brushed my fingers through my hair. "We can do this," I said, smiling at him, and letting him know that even with all of this, we were still a _we._

He smiled then, and I knew he got the message in my words. "We can do this."

He linked his fingers through mine once again, but, thank god, this time he just squeezed my hand once and let them go. He must have known I didn't want to walk into Jay's room hand in hand with him, but if he hadn't done it, I'm not sure I would have been able to bring myself to separate our hands.

I would have felt _way_ too guilty.

When I walked into the room, I noticed that Jay had adjusted his bed into a completely upright position. He must have gotten up and gone to the bathroom while I had been out of the room, because his hair looked brushed, his face looked washed, and instead of the gown, he was wearing a pair of blue hospital scrubs.

The blanket covered the cast on his leg, but his arm, looking strong and muscular as ever, even as it rested in a sling, was exposed.

He looked _handsome_.

Handsome and _nervous_.

"Jay," I said, moving closer to his bed. "This is Paul." I looked to Paul and then back to Jay. "Paul, this is Jay."

I refrained from using any pronouns that weren't just their names, knowing no one in this room needed _that_ reminder.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Paul said, his voice as calm and soft as ever as he reached out to shake Jay's hand. "Erin's told me so many stories about you, I feel like I know you already."

Well, Paul certainly didn't know Jay well enough to _not_ say that.

The way his jaw tensed at Paul's words, I could tell he thought Paul was being possessive. And I couldn't tell if he was sad or angry about it, but I could tell he _definitely_ didn't like knowing that I confided in Paul about him. At all.

"Well, from what I hear," Jay replies, coolly. "You're the best orthopaedic surgeon in the hospital." He shifts slightly, but his jaw remains set and harsh as he continues. "So can we get this first surgery done today, then?"

Paul looks surprised, but to his credit, he doesn't look away from Jay. Instead of consulting me, he calmly looks down and consults his watch.

I, too, calmly look at the clock hanging on the hospital room wall, but it's only when I realize exactly what time it is that I start to freak out.

It's 3:00 in the afternoon.

And that's when I realize that I mispoke when I was talking to Paul outside. I hadn't been thinking clearly. I had just wanted to get the conversation over with, to get _this_ conversation over with.

So I hadn't told him the whole story.

"I don't think today is a good idea," Paul said, and now I wish he _had_ looked at me. I wished he would look at me now. "It's already 3:00," he said. "And if Erin is going to stay here with you this afternoon," he continued.

 _No, no, no,_ I'm internally screaming at him. _Look at me,_ I am shouting in my head. _Please stop talking._

But it's no use.

It's too late.

"Then I'll have to pick up Jacob from daycare."

I hadn't, in fact, told him everything.

The sudden change of Jay's expression, the confusion, then the unbelievable hurt... it was an expression I knew I would never forget as long as I live.

The voice that had been strong, but detached only moments ago was now raspy and raw when he spoke again. "Who's Jacob?"

Difficult moment after difficult moment, I've lived through.

And they just keep coming.

"Our son."

 **xoxo**

Please Review :)


	9. Chapter 9

Hi everyone :) This time the author's note is at the bottom! Happy reading :)

 **Chapter 9,**

 **Erin's POV**

"Our son."

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room at my words, and for several moments, no one spoke. The room was so silent, I could hear Jay's rapid breathing in time with my own; I could hear Paul's calm, quiet breaths that came half as fast.

I stood there, my heart beating wildly against my rib cage, staring at Jay and waiting for a reaction. Paul was a few feet away from me, but at that moment, he wan't in my line of site.

Jay was the only thing I could see.

Jay, and his ocean blue eyes that were slightly wide but also blinking rapidly, as if he was simultaneously trying to understand the situation and also keep the tears at bay.

I don't know what I expected his reaction to be, but I don't think this was it. He was wearing the same devastated expression that was becoming more and more familiar as time went on. It was almost as if devastated _was_ his new normal.

I must have shattered him into so many tiny pieces with my news about Paul that no amount of positive news, even the news of his _child_ , could fuse the pieces back together.

"Our son," I repeated again, because it felt like an eternity since anyone had spoken a word.

"Your son," Paul clarified, and suddenly I stopped breathing altogether. It was in that moment that I realized what Jay must've thought. I realized the reason for Jay's reaction.

But then at Paul's words, I finally got the reaction I had been waiting for. Jay let the tears he had been holding back gather in his eyes, and his lips twitched into a small, disbelieving smile.

At the same time, I let myself breath.

"Our son?" Jay repeated my words, but this time it was phrased as a question. And once again, we were the only two people in the room, holding each others gaze while he looked at me with wonderment. "We have a son?"

I choked back a sob, but I'm not sure for who's benefit. Mine? Jay's? Paul's? _Jesus_ this was complicated. "Yes," I whispered, my voice quiet but clear. I stepped one small step closer to Jay's bed as my body seemed to involuntarily reach for him.

"Jay," Paul's voice stopped me in my tracks, and I stood stock still as he spoke. "I can do your surgery first thing in the morning if you would like." Paul's voice tore through the emotional exchange, and Jay's eyes averted away from my own to peer at Paul.

I _hated_ Paul in that moment. I had _never, ever_ hated Paul, but I had to quite literally force myself to calm my breathing, and not _scream_ at him. The words were in my throat, but I kept them down.

 _This is not the time to talk about the surgery, Paul._ I wanted to say. _He was looking at me. He was_ smiling _at me._

I felt like he was speaking just to insert himself into a conversation that he didn't belong in. Just to _ruin_ a moment he didn't want to have to witness.

"But for now," he continued, and I seethed. "Why don't you try to get some rest. I'll see you and Erin in the morning before the surgery."

That's when I realized what he was doing.

He was excusing himself. He was excusing himself, and simultaneously giving me permission to stay with Jay.

He was telling me it was okay before I even figured out how to ask.

And he didn't bring up Jacob again, but was silently explaining that he would take him for the night. That everything was handled.

He was telling me that this was _okay._ That at some point we would figure this out, but that, right now, all of that could wait. That _this_ moment that Jay and I were sharing was a moment he didn't want to _invade._ That this moment could _continue._

God, _this_ was why Paul is my best friend. For reasons like this.

And of course, this re-confirmed what I already knew - that I didn't deserve him in the slightest, but that I also didn't want to lose him.

I finally turned to face him, then. But I couldn't bring myself to look at his face. He was being magnanimous, but he didn't have to _like_ it, and so I knew if I looked into his big brown eyes, I would seem the same devastation I had seen in Jay's only moments before. And, well, I couldn't bring myself to disappoint two people today. "Thank you," I whispered, as I looked down, allowing my eyes to lock onto the _very_ expensive wristwatch I had given him for Christmas this past year. The one he had worn proudly, every day since.

Paul just smiled at me, and then he turned to leave the room. He paused at the doorway, and turned back towards Jay. "You have a lot of people that are really happy you're back."

And with that, he was gone.

 **Jay's POV**

It's strange, _really_ strange, how hundreds of conflicting emotions can fly through your mind in the amount of time it takes you to take a single breath. It's remarkable, _truly_ remarkable, how your body can be still while your mind runs rampant.

And so it would be impossible to count the number of emotions that swirled around my head the moment I received the news that I had a son.

That _Erin_ and I had a son. A son named Jacob. A name that actually, now that I thought about it, was _very_ similar to my own.

On the one hand, I felt overwhelmed by this immense joy. It was the same joy that overcame me the moment I saw Erin again for this first time this morning. Like everything I had been through, every moment I had lived through, had had a purpose. At that time, I had thought the purpose had been to bring me back to Erin, but now it seems it was also so much more than that. I came back to Erin, and I came back to my son.

I was also overcome by a feeling of an intense anticipation. During the entire flight back here, after hearing Erin's voice over the phone in the hospital in Germany, my body, my _heart,_ was filled with a similar kind of anticipation. Seeing Erin today, laying eyes on her beautiful face, it had been _everything._ And I knew that meeting Jacob for the first time would be just as amazing.

But then, there was the anxiety that crept in, snaking it's way up my back and holding on tight, feeling heavy in a way that I noticed caused me to physically tense my shoulders. I had a son, but I knew _nothing_ about him. Erin hadn't told me she was pregnant before I had been captured, so he couldn't be more than 2 and a half years old.

Which led me to the last emotion.

Anger.

Anger that some terrorist somewhere had decided that my life back home wasn't worth anything. That this boy, _my_ boy, didn't deserve to grow up with me as his father. That it was okay for me to die, and to never know his precious soul even existed.

But of course, that terrorist wasn't here. So I managed to direct my anger to a different target.

 _"You have a lot of people that are really happy you're back."_

I would have been willing to bet this Dr. Paul Alexander, chairman of Orthopaedic surgery at Chicago Med, fiance to my gorgeous wife, pseudo-stepfather to my amazing son, was _not_ one of those people.

Not at all.

And that smug look he gave me when he walked out the door to go pick up _my_ son from daycare made me want to punch him in his perfectly groomed face.

I tried to shove the anger away, though. That was the other thing that had changed in the past one thousand, one hundred, and forty seven days. I had loss the ability to control my anger.

Actually, if you looked closely enough, the scars on my knuckles were still visible. There was still a trace of evidence from the time I punched the brick wall of my cell over and over until I knew half the bones in my hand were broken, until the blood had stained not only my hand and the wall, but also the floor it had dripped down to.

God, I can't even remember what I was so angry about. But then, did it really matter?

Anger was the only emotion I allowed myself. It was better than allowing my handler to see me scared. God forbid he should have ever seen me cry.

Today, though, I tried to shove that anger away, to focus on the positive. "Jacob," I repeated his name, and it felt funny on my tongue. How could one single word hold so much importance?

Rather, how could a name that wasn't _Erin Lindsay Halstead_ hold so much importance?

I had thought coming back here would be the start of a whole new world, a whole new _life._

I had had no idea.

"Jacob," I whispered, again. But this time, it felt more natural. It was only then that I noticed Erin had moved towards me, but was standing completely still at the edge of my bed. She seemed to be waiting with baited breath for me to say something. Something that _wasn't_ just my son's name.

I obliged. "Would you tell me about him?" I asked, and then I motioned for her to join me on the bed.

She didn't need to be asked twice. She sunk onto the bed, and the smile she gave me was so radiant, so _beaming_ that it made me realize how _tense_ things had been the last hour between the two of us, ever since the mention of Paul.

 _Fucking Paul._

"He's _amazing,_ " she started to say, and I watched in awe as her face lit up. "He's two and a half, and he is the smiliest, happiest, most talkative toddler you'll ever meet." The way her face crinkled with excitement, it reminded me of the first time she officially took me to Hank's for dinner as her _boyfriend._ We got home and she was damn happy, so excited that things had gone well, that she couldn't even contain her smile when I kissed her.

That was the day kissing her smile had become my favorite thing.

"It's like the terrible twos completely skipped him, because he is _anything_ but terrible. He's about to start preschool, and-" she continued, and not only did her smile widen, but her eyes began to twinkle.

So that's when I decided to lean in and kiss her.

Because a man who has denied every simple pleasure for the last three years, at the very least, deserves to do his favorite thing.

Especially, if it may be one of the last times he gets to do it.

 **Erin's POV**

Jay's kiss stopped me mid-sentence, and all of a sudden the warmth of his lips overtook me, sending a hum through my whole body. My bones seemed to be humming and buzzing with electricity while also melting with pure desire.

The hum of electricity must have translated into a groan coming from deep in my throat, because the kiss that was likely intended to be a quick kiss against my lips suddenly turned. As he bit my bottom lip and my lips separated apart, as his tongue swept through my mouth, I found myself thinking that this kiss was better than any of the other kisses we had shared today. Or maybe, ever.

Because _this_ kiss, full of passion, and desire, and _love,_ was also the most honest. Jay knew everything, he knew me inside and out, every secret I had walked in here with today had been revealed, and he chose to kiss me anyway.

We were panting by the time I pulled away, and I rested my forehead against his. I noticed right away that there were tears on his face, and that's when I recognized them as my own.

I had been crying.

And unlike before, this time he reached out and swept his thumb over my cheek, wiping my tears dry, before he tenderly pressed his lip to each wet spot.

"Sorry," he whispered, "I just-" he didn't finish the sentence, but I had a feeling he was going to say _I just had to kiss you._

Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.

It didn't matter though, because he was still staring at me in complete awe and I couldn't wipe the smile off my face if I tried. "Tell me more about Jacob," he said, "Tell me _everything._ "

And so, I did.

For hours.

But with each story, with each memory, I spared him the sadder details.

I told him about how we turned Justin's room into a nursery for Jacob, and how much his Grandpa Hank fawned over him. But I didn't tell him about Jacob's dramatic entry into the world, and I didn't tell him _why_ I chose to move into Hank's house, that our apartment was just too empty without him.

I told him about Jacob's first birthday, when the team had decided to take a trip to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan to spend the day at the beach, but then when we got there, Jacob was too terrified to let his feet touch the sand. But I didn't tell him about how I had always dreamt of spending Jacob's first birthday in Wisconsin, at Jay's grandfather's cabin, overlooking an entirely different bay of water.

I told him about the little girl Emily that Jacob loves to play with after school, about how they walk around holding hands and how they cry every time they have to leave each other's side. But I don't tell him about how I cry every time I leave those play dates, too, but only because Emily's parents remind me of us. Only because seeing them parent Emily together is just too much for my fragile heart to handle.

I told him about how much Jacob loved coming to visit the team at Distrct 21, how he took his very first steps by walking from my desk across the way to Jay's old one. But I didn't tell him how much I cried that day, watching my son walk towards something he could never quite reach.

If Jay can sense I'm leaving anything out, though, he doesn't press me. Instead, he listens to my stories, peppers me with questions, laughs in all the right places, and smiles the whole time.

When we finally got hungry again, I ordered us Thai for dinner, and we ate it across from each other while I continued to relay story after story, and while I showed him picture after picture.

And somehow, with each story, with each picture, I felt the broken pieces of him fuse back together.

"I can't wait for you to meet him," I whispered. I was tucked against his body, my arms carefully wrapped against his bandaged torso, as I stroked the part of his arm peeking out from the sling. "Do you think you'll be up for it tomorrow?" _After you surgery,_ I thought, but didn't add.

His fingers continued their dance across my back, and it tickled even through the fabric of my shirt. And by tickled, I mean lit my skin on _fire._

God, how I missed this.

Even if the small single hospital bed, our bodies seemed to still fit together. Almost like they had never even been separated at all.

"Definitely," he said, and even though I wasn't looking at him, I could feel the smile in his voice.

"Good," I smiled back, and I wondered if he could feel the curve of my lips against his chest.

We laid like that for another thirty minutes in a comfortable silence, holding each other, stroking our fingers over every inch of exposed skin, as if trying to memorize the feeling so they would be tattooed indelibly in our finger tips.

But as the stars rose about the clouds, and the moon began to shine through the hospital window, Jay spoke again. "You should probably be getting home." His voice seemed to have lost the confidence it had before, and it had gained some sadness, too.

"I don't need to go tonight," I said, not moving an inch. If I had my way, I would never move again, but more realistically, it was well past Jacob's bed time and there was no need to go home. And knowing Paul, he was going to pre-op Jay at 7:00 am and take him back to the OR at 7:30. I could theoretically duck out after they start the case, pick up Jacob from daycare and bring him back to the hospital. I wouldn't miss too much of his day. "I can stay here," I say, apparently thinking out loud.

I should _never_ think out loud. "Paul has him, he'll be fine," I said, because apparently, my lips and brain were _not_ connected.

At the sound of Paul's name, Jay's entire body stiffens. I could feel it from the tension in his legs to the setting of his jaw, because my own skin is pressed against his in those places.

"I mean-" I tried to back track, but he didn't let me.

"You should go home," he said, and the way he delivered the words nearly broke my heart.

They're not devastated, or sad, or angry.

They're cold.

That's when I lift my head up, and sit back to look at him. When I settled my eyes on Jay's, though, I immediately realized something.

I swear I still recognize every curve of his face, every freckle that appears on his arm. I recognize the feel of his body, the shape of his muscles, the smell of his skin. I recognize everything. But I seem to have the lost the ability to _read_ him. I used to be able to decipher every twitch of his mouth, every turn of his lip. I used to recognize the low hum he would make when he was satisfied, and the low groan he would make when he desperately needed just a little more.

I'm not sure when I lost that.

But whenever it was, it seems to be gone now, because as I look at Jay's ice blue eyes staring back into my own, I can't read a single expression. I can't find a single thought. The broken man who found out I was engaged is gone; the happy, excited man who found out he was a father is gone.

Instead, there is a shell of a man staring back, and just like with a stranger, I can't detect anything at all.

"I don't want to," I whispered, looking down into my lap where I intertwined my own fingers togther for support.

"I want you to," he whispered back, and at the very least, I heard a hint of remorse behind his words.

But evidently, it's not enough to change his mind.

"Okay," I said, but I don't move. Instead, I sit there and stare into my lap, waiting and waiting for him to change his mind. We've slept apart every night for three years, and I don't ever want to do it again.

I shouldn't have to.

"Please go," he whispered again, and when I look up, I noticed that he, too, had to look away. Evidently, he, too, couldn't face me.

But then, he was the one begging me to go away.

"Okay," I said again, but this time I actually began to move. I forced myself to unlock my limbs from his and stand from the tiny bed. My moves were slow, allowing him an ample amount of time to change his mind, to realize that he, too, needs to fall asleep with me every night, and wake up with me in his arms every morning. That it wasn't just me that felt the emptiness in my bed when I woke.

But he doesn't. He doesn't say _anything._

And so, I left. I heeded his words, and left.

I may have cried from the minute I walked out of his room to the minute I found myself standing outside my front door, but still, I listened. Because with everything he had been through in the past three years, with everything _I_ had put him through today, I knew I owed him at least that much.

 **Jay's POV**

When Erin left, I finally lost my composure. I finally released all the emotions I had pent up over the last day, and I let them out into my pillow.

First, I screamed. I screamed so loud that I was convinced the pillow wouldn't smother the sound. I was convinced the entire world could hear the anger bellowing from inside me, the anger that was consuming me whole.

Second, I began to punch the pillow. And you may think punching a pillow is harmless, but when you have a splint and two IVs, you can really do some damage.

And when all the fight seemed to seep out of me, and I was depleted of all of my energy stores, I finally sunk into the mattress and cried.

I cried and cried and cried and cried.

I cried for what felt like hours. Loud, awful tears. I made sounds that were unrecognizable, that sounded like strangled sobs. I made sounds that I would have _never_ allowed myself to make when I was captured.

But here, sitting in my hospital room, _alone,_ I allowed myself the dignity of having every emotion, of feeling every feeling that I hadn't allowed myself to have before.

And, _damn it,_ if it didn't feel good. As the last few tears seaped down my cheeks, I knew that I had made the right move sending Erin home.

Erin might be spending the night apart from me tonight, but that was okay. What _wasn't_ okay was Paul spending another night fathering _my_ child.

And honestly, this period of catharsis had been exactly what I needed.

As the tears subsided, and my breathing calmed, I thought back on all the stories Erin had told me. I was so unbelievably sad and angry and heartbroken at every moment I had missed. Each time she told me something about my son, it was like it made my heart grow two sizes with love while simultaneously slicing it right through the middle with grief.

I missed so much.

I couldn't miss anymore.

And Paul may be a doctor. He may have been the best man in the world, he certainly seems damn close, but _I_ was the best man for _her._

I was her husband. I was the father of her child.

And I was going to get her back.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

Guys! I'm sorry but I laughed so hard at all of your reviews! They were amazing (so thank you!) but also so unexpected! I had no idea people were going to assume Paul said that, or that Erin said that and Jay would think she meant Paul. But then, your thoughts completely inspired me and this chapter literally came pouring out of me today! I legit wrote almost this entire chapter in between OR cases today at work! LOL! You guys are amazing, keep up the amazing and inspiring reviews :) Y'all are the BEST!


	10. Chapter 10

Hi all :) Thank you SO MUCH for all of the amazing reviews on the last chapter. I am so excited that I've had so much time this week to write, and I hope you're enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing ! Also happy almost Friday!

 **Chapter 10,**

 **Erin's POV**

I woke up the following morning well before my alarm, well before the sun had a chance to make it's grand appearance over the horizon. It took a long time for my eyes to adjust enough to read the time illuminated on my bedside clock.

 _5:02._

Well, I had managed to sleep over 5 hours. That's actually more than I would have expected. As my eyes continued to adjusted to the darkness of the room, I turned my body and allowed my gaze to rove over the other size of the bed.

The silky tan sheets were untouched and the floral blanket was completely smooth. The emptiness of the bed reminded me of all the times I woke up expecting Jay to be sleeping next to me, only to be met with the cruel reality that he wasn't. That, really, he wasn't going to be sleeping next to me ever again.

Because he was dead.

This time, though, it felt different. It was a different bed, it was a different blanket, it was even a different _room,_ and quite honestly, it was really Paul's spot in the bed that was vacated, but even so, that's not what felt different.

This time I was met with the cruel reality that Jay wasn't asleep next to me, and this time it was his _choice_.

I closed my eyes again, trying to shove the thoughts of last night away. But even as I forced my lids to stay tightly fused together, I knew I wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep.

With one calming deep breath, I opened my eyes and slid my body out from underneath the soft covers. I slowly padded my way to the master bathroom, turning on the hot water of the tiled shower, thinking about the night before.

 _"Erin?" When I walked into the kitchen, with swollen eyes and tear stains on my face, Paul rushed from the wooden kitchen stool and moved towards me. "What are you doing here?"_

 _He seemed genuinely surprised, and I knew right away my thoughts in the hospital room had been true. He_ had _been giving me permission to stay in the hospital, to stay with Jay._

 _I didn't answer his question right away, though. Instead, I moved into his arms, and began to sob against his chest, the whole time wishing desperately that things could be different._

 _I wished that Jay would let me love him, would let me stay, and I wished that Paul would stay my best friend, that he would continue to comfort me through this entire ordeal, like he was doing right now._

 _But, of course, I knew it couldn't be like that. It wasn't fair to either one of them._

 _But knowing that, and_ acting _on that after a day of intense emotions, were two very different things. So instead of pushing Paul away, I let him comfort me. "Jay didn't want me to stay with him," I revealed, finally._

 _And when the words left my mouth, the strangest thing happened. Instead of Paul's body tensing, the way Jay's had when I was pressed against him and spoke Paul's name, his body remained pliant. His breathing remained steady._ He _remained steady._

 _And that's when I knew._

 _"Erin," he said, "He's just going to need some time." He moved his body away from mine, but kept his hands firmly around my shoulders as our eyes met. "He has been through a lot, and he has a long road ahead of him." His eyes were as warm and brown as chocolate, but for the first time, I realized they weren't looking at me with intensity, with desire, or with_ love. _They were looking at me with friendship._

 _Maybe that is all we had always been. Friends who found each other at the right time, who comforted each other at the end of trying days, who settled on a_ life _together when the ones they had really wanted had slipped gracelessly away._

 _Paul continued to speak. "From everything you've told me about him," he touched my cheek gingerly, but their was no spark. Just tenderness; just caring. "He is probably going to resist your help at first. But you need to keep trying. You need to let him know you're there for him, and that you're not going anywhere. No matter what."_

 _I let his words sink in, and I tried to open my mouth to speak, but no words came out. "Go back to him," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Go back to the hospital and tell him all of that." He lifted his hand from my cheek and moved it to squeeze my hand. "Let him know before he goes in for surgery tomorrow."_

 _When he released me, I lifted my hand to my own face, and once again I noticed I was crying. It's shocking, really, how many tears as person has in store. I would have thought my entire body had run dry, that I had no more tears to shed. But then, I had thought that when I thought Jay had died, too. I had cried enough tears for one hundred people in the days leading up to the funeral; and then at the funeral, I cried enough for one hundred more._

 _"Okay," I whispered. "You're right." I wiped the tears away with the sleeves of my sweater, which at this point was soaked through._

 _"Why don't you change into something more comfortable first," Paul suggested. "And I'll pack a bag to bring you tomorrow, so you don't have to waste time gathering stuff now."_

 _"Okay," I said, moving towards the kitchen door to go find a new sweater in our bedroom. But before I could bring myself to leave the room, I stopped at the door and turned around._

 _"Paul?" I said his name as question, even though I already had his undivided attention._

 _"Yeah?" He replied, never taking his brown eyes off me._

 _"Thank you," I said. The two words seemed too little, too insignificant, to capture all of the gratitude I had for him in this moment._

 _But he knew me well, and so he knew the meaning behind my words. He gave me a knowing look, and a slight nod, and then he moved his head slightly towards the door, giving me permission to walk out of the kitchen._

 _And maybe, to walk out of his life._

I didn't go to the hospital, though. I made it halfway there before I lost my nerve and turned around. Paul may have thought Jay would want to see me, but he didn't see Jay's face when he begged me to leave.

He didn't see the way Jay sat silently as I moved in slow motion towards the door, practically begging him to change his mind.

So instead, I turned the car around and drove to the only place I knew I would always, _always_ be welcome.

 _I checked the time on my iPhone before deciding I should knock instead of using my key. I knocked three times, loudly, and then waited two minutes. Then, I knocked again._

 _I heard the slow, nearly silent footsteps on the hardwood on the other side of the door. "Hank, put the gun down." I said against the door frame. "It's just me," I repeated the line I had used nearly ten years ago, when I came to this door asking for my job back._

 _I had come here looking for answers that night, too. I guess things don't really ever change._

 _When Hank opened the door, his response was the same. "You lose your key?" I couldn't tell if he was trying to lighten the mood, or if he honestly forgot that is what he had said._

 _"It's been a rough day," I said, because even if he hadn't been trying to lighten the mood, he had certainly succeeded. "I didn't want to get shot, too."_

 _He gave me the kind of rare Hank Voight smile that actually met his eyes, before moving and wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug, and for the first time all day, I felt my body completely relax._

 _"Coffee?" He said, even though it was nearly 10:00 at night. But I knew it was just because he didn't want me to hitting the hard stuff._

 _I couldn't exactly blame him. When Jay died, I had been pregnant. Jacob was probably the only thing that kept me sober. Even now, I don't know how I did it. "Coffee would be good."_

 _We moved towards the kitchen, and I sat at the table while he brews a cup. As I took in my surroundings, I realized that I was really glad I came. This was the house that had healed my heart when I was 15. This was the house that had healed my heart when I was 28. This was the one place that would always, always be home._

 _And it was exactly what I needed._

 _"Hank," I finally said, after a very long strength of silence. The coffee was nearly done at this point, the pot three-quarters full of the black liquid._

 _"Yeah, kid," he said, and I could tell he had been keeping his distance to give me room to start the conversation on my own terms. But now, he left the coffee to finish brewing and sat in the seat beside me._

 _"I don't know what to do," I said, and then there they were. The tears again. They flowed and flowed as I told him everything._

 _"I think Paul's right," Hank said, after I finally told him the last piece of the story. "Jay has a long way to go. And you have to find a way to let him know you'll be there for him."_

 _"I know, but-"_

 _"I wasn't done," he continued, cutting my rebuttal off mid-sentence. "You need to let him know you'll be there for him, but you can't force it. You were right to leave tonight, and you were right to come here instead of the hospital." He took a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Jay spent three years not able to make a single decision for himself," he said, shaking his head at the magnitude of the statement. "If he wants you to leave, you leave. You tell him you love him, you tell him you'll be there when he's ready, but then you leave."_

 _He reached for my hand and squeezed it, almost as if he was trying to instill some strength into my hands, into_ me _. Almost as if he knew this was going to be a lot harder than in sounded, that it would likely be the hardes thing I would ever have to do. "Give him back the control he lost."_

 _I let out the deep breath of air I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. "Okay," I whispered, feeling completely defeated._

 _Except, how was I supposed to do that?_

 _"When you find yourself caving in, and driving back to see him," he said, answering the question I hadn't even asked out loud. "You come here instead."_

 _"Thank you," I whispered, a fresh batch of tears welling in my eyes. "Thank you." I repeated, even softer this time._

 _This time when he reached out, he touched my cheek gently. "You know there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, right?"_

 _I nodded without a moments hesitation._

 _With everything that had happened today, with everything that was changing in my world, at the very least,_ that _remained constant._

 _There was nothing in the world that Hank Voight wouldn't do for me._

 _Or for my son. Or for my husband._

I stayed in the shower until the water turned cold, until my body was wracked with shivers so drastic I could no longer physically stay immersed under the spray. When I turned off the water, I closed by eyes and placed my head against the cool tile and just stood silently. I'm not sure how long I stood here, how many minutes I lost trying to calm my breathing and gain strength for my day, but by the time I opened my eyes and stepped out of the shower, I was nearly dry. I dried the rest of the way and wrapped my terry-cloth robe around my naked body before walking back into my bedroom.

Paul was there, already dressed in his maroon scrubs, tying his shoes, and looking ready for the day.

"You didn't have to sleep in the guest room," was the first thing I said, even though when I came home last night to find that he had chose to sleep there, I was _incredibly_ grateful.

He seemed to catch that I didn't truly mean my words, so he didn't answer them. Instead, he finished tying his shoes and stood. "I'm going to head to the hospital and round on my other patients before I pre-op Jay," he said, all business, the way he is most every morning. "Are you going to bring Jacob in this morning to meet him before surgery?"

The nonchalance with which he delivered the question threw me off, and he seemed to sense my discomfort. "I'm only asking," he said quickly, covering himself, "because I can call Donna and ask her to push the surgery back to 9. If you want some alone time before then."

I hadn't actually planned on bringing Jacob with me to the hospital this morning. I had talked it over with Hank last night, and he thought with a 7:30 surgery, it would be too much for Jacob, and for Jay, to force such a significant interaction into such a small time frame.

But if the surgery was at 9...

"I think," I began to speak, as I tightened my blue robe around my bare body. "I think I will bring him," the words tumbled out of my mouth before I realized I had even made that decision. "I think a 9:00 surgery sounds perfect," I nodded, trying to keep my voice as casual and nonchalant as Paul's.

Even though this was _anything_ but casual.

The only thing that was keeping me sane was the fact that Jacob _knew_ about his Daddy. Well, he knew about him in the way two year olds look at pictures and can recite exactly who the person is but have no real _sense_ of them as a person.

There are pictures of Jay all over his room, and every night before he goes to sleep, we would say nightly prayers, and after we tell God to watch over Grandpa Hank, and Emily, and the Intelligence unit, we would finish by telling God to say hi to Daddy.

The funny thing is I don't even really believe in God, but I read about that on one of the books I read about grief. It was supposed to provide your child will an outlet, a way to have a private conversation with the person they lost, and not have it feel unusual or forced. And right now, I wanted to call up the psychologist that wrote that book and thank her. I wanted to kiss her feet for providing me with a way to give my son a nightly reminder of exactly who is daddy was.

After I got dressed and said goodbye to Paul, I moved towards Jacob's room. The small blue lamp in the corner is still illuminated, casting a shadow over my son's porcelain face.

Jacob is _all_ Jay. From the freckles across his pale skin, to the blue of his eyes, to the way he seems to win me over with a single glance. I laid my hand on his shoulder, lightly tapping him awake.

"Baby," I whispered, softly. "It's time to wake up." I kept my voice low and soothing, hoping to slowly wake him and bring him calmly into this day.

Sure enough, he opened his eyes and let out a stretch and a yawn before giving me his very own Halstead smile. "Mommy!" He squealed, and then he turned his body slightly before standing up in his crib. He lifted his arms in a gesture that let me know he was ready to start the day. "Pick me up!"

"Okay, little man," I said, before obliging him and lifting him from the crib. I pressed a kiss against his forehead as I inhaled his familiar scent. No matter what was going on in my life, no matter what awful case the intelligence unit had seen, no matter how much I was missing Jay, Jacob's scent would ground me, and this morning, it served to do it again.

I took him over to the changing table, which was always our first stop in the morning. He liked to play with his toes and listen to me talk as I changed his diaper.

Usually, though, I just talk to him about school. I would say things like _Guess what Jacob? Today you're going to finger paint in school today._ Or _guess what Jacob? Today after school you're going to have a play date with Emily._ Or _guess what Jacob? Today we are going to Grandpa Hank's for breakfast._

Not today, though. Today, I started right in with the hard stuff.

"Guess what Jacob?" I said, making sure my voice contained the same cheerfulness it usually did at this time. "Today, you're going to see Daddy."

Jacob is too young to notice the way my voice hiccupped and croaked over the word Daddy. But even so, he turned his face towards me, and the way he raised his eyebrow in a confused gesture was so much like his daddy it almost took my breath away.

"Daddy's in heaven," he replied. The way he said those words, it's almsot as if he was talking to a child himself. Almost as if he was explaining something that he knew to be true, but felt the need to let me down easily.

"Daddy's in the hospital," I said, as I laid the final strap on his diaper and pulled up the pants I had set out for him to wear.

He looked down at the pants he was now wearing, and put his hands on his bare belly. "Daddy's in the hospital?" He repeated my words, but this time it's a question. "With Paul? And Unc-ie Will?"

For some reason, Jacob, who can speak many more words than an average two and a half year old, couldn't say the word Uncle correctly in the beginning. Or maybe, it was become Kim insisted on being Auntie Kim instead of Aunt Kim, and so Jacob must've thought Auntie went with Unc-ie. But either way, the word had seemed to stick.

"Yes," I confirmed, as I lifted his hand from his belly and raised them up so I could shove his favorite Chicago Blackhawks t-shirt over his head. "With Paul and Unc-ie Will."

When his head reappeared after I pushed the fabric of the t-shirt down, his eyes were wide with wonder. But then he remained silent for so long that I was convinced that was the end of the conversation.

But then finally, he spoke again. "Daddy's home?"

I forced away the tears that clogged my eyes, my throat. I may not have been able to control them yesterday, but I could control them for my son. I could do _anything_ for my son.

"Yes," I said, smiling softly. "Daddy's home."

xoxo

Please Review :)

And next chapter... Jacob will finally meet his Daddy :) :) :)


	11. Chapter 11

Hi everyone :) Okay, since I made you wait a whileee for this chapter, I made it twice as long as my usual one! I hope you like it :) And I hope I did the scene justice (fingers crossed!)

 **Chapter 11**

 **Jay's POV**

I wasn't sure how many times I reached for Erin in the middle of the night, but by the time the nurse came in to draw my morning labs, I could count exactly how many times I reached for the phone beside my bed to call her.

Nine.

I stopped myself each time, though. And even as I tried to convince myself it was because I was the one who pushed her to leave, and it would be cruel to ask her to turn around and come back, only for me to likely push her away again, I knew that wasn't the reason.

No, it wasn't the reason at all.

I remember once in the middle of the night when Erin and I were first married, Will called my cell phone and woke me from a deep sleep. The case we had been working on had been brutal, and neither Erin nor I had gotten a good night sleep in days. So when I heard the phone ringing, I knew right away what the call was, and I quickly swiped the screen and pressed it to my ear.

Immediately after I said a tired hello, Erin scooted close to me and whispered, in her husky voice, still thick with sleep, _Who is it? Is it time?_

And I remember that Will had heard her question through the phone because he then ignored my hello and went straight to answering her question. _Yes, it is._

So as I tossed and turned in the single-sized hospital bed, trying to decide if I should call Erin or not, the memory of that nignt kept swirling around my head. That wasn't the most significant part of the night, of course. Natalie had gone into labor, and Erin and I immediately dressed and drove recklessly, with our sirens blaring, over to their house to take care of Owen. That had been the night his little sister, Layla, was born.

But even so, it's the memory of that night that keeps me from calling her.

Because if I called her, she would answer, her voice husky and thick with sleep just like I remember, but then there would be someone _else_ would be scooting close to her and asking _Who is it?_

Or, worse, maybe that someone else would reach across my wife and pick up her phone and answer it himself.

And as I thought about it more, I realized that sounded _exactly_ like something Perfect Paul would do. He would answer _hello_ in a whisper, trying to give her a few more moments of peaceful sleep before the rest of the world rushed in.

By 3 am, I decided to get up and _physically_ remove the phone from my reach. But at least after that, I finally got a little bit of sleep.

It hadn't lasted long, though.

"Good morning," I heard the familiar voice at the same time that I felt someone's warm hand gently shaking my good leg, which was covered beneath two layers of thin, white hospital blankets.

When I opened my eyes, I saw my nurse Anna standing at the foot of my bed. She was glancing at me apologetically, almost as if she _knew_ I had finally found some semblance of peace and she had ruined it. I tried to give her a smile, let her know that I knew she was just doing her job, but I'm not sure how well I managed.

It had been a _long_ night.

"Morning," I responded, and then I cleared my throat when I realized my voice croaked out the word.

"I know it's early," she said, and that's when I looked at the clock. It wasn't even 6 in the morning. "But we need your bloodwork to come back before we can prep you for surgery," she explained, and I noticed that she seems to be all business this morning. Maybe it was because it was early, and she had a job to do. Or maybe she realized how much her comment the day before had cut me straight through to the bone.

"It's fine," I answered, already readjusting my position to make it easier for her.

She leaned over me, and it's only when I saw her scrubs tighten against her midsection, that I noticed that she was pregnant.

I found myself wanting to reach out and touch her stomach. I found myself wanting to ask her about it. Was it planned? Is she happy? Is it going to be a boy or a girl?

Is her husband home to share it with her?

It's that last queston though that kept me silent. It's that last question that has a knot growing in my stomach, and a wad of tears clogging in my throat.

What would Erin have said if someone had asked her those very same questions?

When did she find out? _How_ did she found out? Did she find out if it was going to be a boy or a girl?

Was she happy?

"Little pinch," Anna's warning brought me out of my head and back to the present. For once, I found myself grateful for the sound of her voice, stopping my inner downward spiral. Although, she needn't have warned me about the needle prick.

A man who goes through what I've gone through the last three years doesn't exactly flinch at a needle.

"Almost done," she said, as she switched one tube out for the next. "Okay," she sighed, as she pulled out the needle and presses a white gauze against my skin to staunch the bleeding. "I'm done." I am not surprised by the way she sighs, almost as if she is just as relieved to be leaving the room as I am to have her go. She flipped off the light before she left the room, and I was grateful.

I just wasn't ready to be around _people_ yet.

People that expected me to talk. People that expected me to be normal. People that _expected._

I leaned back into the pillows once again, and sighed deeply as I closed my eyes. I knew that I wasn't going to be able to fall asleep again, and I wasn't even going to try. But I developed this habit in my cell, and I found myself going back to it.

I closed my eyes, and chose a memory at random. It never mattered how small, how insignificant the memory was. I always just needed something that was enough to take me away, just for a moment, to a better place.

And anywhere with Erin was _always_ a better place.

 _It was a Saturday morning. Ever since Erin and I had moved in together, Saturday mornings had become my ultimate favorite. We would snuggle together on the couch with the coffee that she made, and the breakfast that I made, while watching an episode of TV we had DVRed from the week before that we hadn't had time to watch. After our first steaming cup of coffee had been inhaled, we would often pause the episode, because one of us decided to get a little frisky. Then, as Erin slipped into my t-shirt, I would get up and refill our matching mugs, and we would press play._

 _I could have spent every day wrapped in Erin's arms on our living room couch, and never gotten tired of it._

 _But this Saturday morning, I had avoided Erin's advances and rushed through the episode, and by 10 am, I had shoved Erin out door. "Jay, where are we going?" Erin asked for the tenth time in the past five minutes. I told her that I had a surprise for her, but I wouldn't tell her what it was. I had even insisted on driving._

 _"Here." I said, finally, after driving for nearly fifteen minutes. I pulled over to the curb and put the car in park. "We're here."_

 _I turned to Erin, and I watched her as she took in her the brick house with a wrap-around porch, large windows, and a deep red door. The house was two stories, and had a beautiful, large front and side yard. "Wh-what are we doing here?" She stuttered, and I wasn't surprised at the unsteadiness in her voice. We had been living together for a year now, and I had never, not once, mentioned wanting to move. Actually,_ she _had mentioned wanting to move a couple of times, but I had always shoved the idea aside. I had always told her that we didn't need more space, and we certainly didn't have the time or money to maintain a house._

 _Before she was able to utter another word, I walked to her side of the car, opening the door and guiding her down the walkway to the front of the house. It was a beautiful Saturday morning in May, and the yard was green and perfectly cut. "Come inside and see."_

 _We walked up to the front door, and I punched in the code to the lockbox that was hanging from the door knob. I retrieved the key, and began to slowly unlock the door. I tried to hide the fact that my hands were shaking, but it didn't work. Erin reached out and covered my own, even as I turned the key._

 _"The kitchen has been completely redone," I said, even though I knew she wouldn't care about the kitchen. I just needed something to say as I walked through the foyer and down the hallway towards our destination. "And just wait until you see the rest of the house. It's perfect." I shoved my hands into pockets, they were still shaking uncontrollably. This time, I think Erin was too taken with the house to notice._

 _She began wandering on her own, bypassing the hallway to the living room and walking straight up the stairs towards the bedrooms. I could tell she was completely taken by the master bedroom as she stared in awe at the large fire place and the beautiful wooden mantel above it. The room was large and the crown moldings made it feel fancy and homey at the same time. "Jay, it's beautiful," she said, a little breathlessly. "But can we afford this?"_

 _I took her hand in mine, feeling a little more steady by her clear adoration of the house I had chosen. "When my mom died, she left me some money. This is what she wanted me to spend it on." I smiled at the thought of my mother. She would have loved this house. And she would have_ loved _Erin. "Come on, let's go back downstairs." She had bypassed the room without even realizing it, and I needed to get back downstairs._

 _As I led her down the stairs, I could feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest._ Relax _, I repeated over and over in my mind, as I tried and failed to calm himself._

 _I showed her the kitchen, once again commenting on the new, state of the art applicances she definitely was never going to use, and then we wlked towards the dining room, and then went to the office. Then, finally I lead her down the last hallway. "This is the living room," I said, by way of introduction._

 _She gasped as I opened the door. The room was covered in hundreds of colorful daisies and white candles lined a walkway to the center of the room._

 _Then, in the center of the room, was our couch._

 _The exact same couch Erin had bought all those years ago, the one that I had helped her carry into her living room, before we tested out the_ function. _The couch that had brought us back together, that had started it all._

 _A small wooden coffee table stood before it, with two white mugs. One was labeled 'his' in black loopy script, and the other said 'hers'._

 _And right in front of the mug that said hers was a black box._

 _I grabbed Erin's hand and walked with her to the center of the room, and by that time, my heart was beating so quickly, I still can't believe I didn't pass out._

 _Releasing her hands for only a moment, I leaned over and reached for the black box that rested on the coffee table. Then, I bent down to one knee and opened it, to reveal a one and a half carat brilliant round diamond with small diamonds lining a platinum band. It had been my mother's. "Erin Lindsay," I began, and I was so grateful the words came out so much steadier than I was feeling._

 _Tears were streaming down her face at this point, and it was all I could do to not stand and kiss those tears away. I forced myself to continue, though, knowing I was only going to get to do this once. And, so, I had to do it right._

 _"I think I've loved you since the moment I met you," I began, as I took her hands in my own. "First, I loved you as my partner. I woke up every morning excited to go in to work, because I would get to see you be fierce, and strong, and fight for the people of your city." It was one of the qualities I admired most about her right off the bat, how unbelievably strong she was._

 _"Then, you invited me into your life, and I got to see you with your friends, with your family. Then I began leaving work every day excited to spend more time with you. And I got to see you be fierce, and strong, and fight for the people you loved." Her tears were coming as hard and fast as my breathing, but I pressed on. "And that's when I fell_ in _love with you."_

 _"And since then," I continued, as my own tears began to well in my eyes. "We've been through it all. You and me. The better and the worse, we've fought together, stronger than either one of us could ever be alone. I have loved you through all of it. And I want to spend the rest of my life loving you."_

 _I looked up into the hazel eyes of this beautiful girl, this beautiful girl that for some reason chose to be with_ me, _and I smiled. "You make me happier than I ever thought possible, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. Will you marry me?"_

 _"Yes," she cried, her voice somehow steady through her tears. "Yes! A million times yes."_

 _I stood, then, itching to finally be on my feet and touch Erin's beautiful face. I rested my hand against her cheek before I wrapped her in my arms, and then we shared the first of many kisses in our new home._

I hadn't known, then, of course how our lives were going to pan out. I hadn't known, then, that I would be taken away and she would be left to raise our baby on her own.

And I hadn't known, then, that the _stronger than either one of us could ever be alone_ would lend itself to more than just us together, physically; that her mere presence in the world would be the thing that kept me fighting, clawing my way out, until I found my way back to her.

With that final thought, I opened my eyes, resolved to show her that we were _still_ stronger together. That we were still the best versions of ourselves with each other by our sides.

"Hey," I opened my eyes just in time to see my brother walking through the hispital room door. "You're awake."

"Yeah," I whispered quietly, because he had kept the lights off and it just seems like the thing to do in the dark. "Why are _you_ awake?" I asked, peering towards the clock. The morning shift didn't start until 8 am, and being in Emergency Medicine, it's not like he had to round in the morning. Plus, he had two kids at home to take care of.

Well, _at least_ two kids.

"I wanted to come and see you before your surgery," he explained, "And I figured once Erin gets here..." he didn't finish the sentence, but I knew what he was saying.

"Thanks, man," I replied, trying to give him more than one word answers. I couldn't find it in myself to say more, though, and we sat there for a long, awkward silence.

"Erin told you everything, then?" He finally asked, filling the silence that had stretched between us in the dark.

"Yeah," I replied, returning to the one syllable answers I had been giving. I _did not_ want to talk about this. Not with Will, not with anyone. I had been over it and over it in my head, and I just wanted to focus on Erin and Jacob today. And not on the rest of the _everything_ Will was talking about.

Will seemed to sense that though, because when he spoke again, it was light and it had _nothing_ to do with Paul. "Jacob is an amazing kid, Jay," he said, and I was shocked at the sincerity in his voice. I mean, I knew my brother could be sincere, but he just wasn't generally all that sincere with me.

And I'm not sure why, but something inside me decided to return his sincerity with some of my own. "What if he doesn't like me?" I whispered, and suddenly, I was so grateful Will had chosen to keep the lights off. The slowly rising sun casting a soft glow though the paper shades was the only light I needed for this conversation. "He doesn't even know me."

"Jay," he sighed, and then he paused, as if he was _really_ searching for an answer. One that wasn't just the obvious _he'll love you_ , that he _knows_ I would disregard. "I don't know if Erin told you this," he said, suddenly finding his voice. "But I have another son, Michael. He's two."

"Will, congratulations," I replied immediately, but he brushes off my comment as if to say _that's not the point._

"He idolizes Owen," he continued, as if I hadn't even spoken. "He follows him around everywhere, trying to do everything his big brother does." He paused and shook his head slightly, as if recalling a sad memory before he resumed speaking. "So when Michael started to talk, he started calling me Will."

As soon as he said that, I remembered the conversation we had had years ago. The one where Will had told me that he never wanted to takes Jeff's place, that he would never ask Owen to call him dad, even if he _felt_ like Owen's dad.

When Will had first told me the story, it had broken my heart a little.

Now, though, my mind flashed to Erin, and I found myself hoping she and Paul had a smiliar arragement.

That my son didn't call _him_ Dad.

"I had to sit down and explain to my own son why he had to call me daddy, and Owen got to call me Will," Will continued, completely unaware of the thoughts brewing in my head as a result of his story. "And that was the day that Owen started calling me dad, too."

I think he meant for this story to give me courage, to give me hope. I think he wanted me to take away the fact that eve though Owen had lived without Will for the first two years of his life, and even though he had continued without calling Will dad for nearly five years past that, ultimately the story had a happy ending. I think he meant for me to see that it may take time, but eventually you get to the place you want to go.

At least, I _think_ that's what his message was.

I don't _think_ he was trying to break my heart.

Even though, he managed to do exactly that.

Luckily, though, not even thirty minutes later, a little boy walked into my life and healed it.

I was sitting on the chair by the window, watching the sun rise and ruminating on what Will had said, when I heard the pitter patter of little feet racing towards the door. Almost as quickly as the sound appeared, though, it was gone.

Then, another set of foot steps, one I recognized immediately as belonging to Erin, got louder and louder, until they, too, stopped outside my door.

"Are you ready, baby?" I don't think Erin knew that I could hear her whispers. I don't think she knew that the sound of her voice, that the sound of that question, nearly made me lose my breath.

The answer that came next, though, stole my breath entirely. "Yes, mommy!" His voice was high, but soft. And it was new, but familiar. Almost as if I heard that beautiful voice one hundred times before, in my dreams. "I'm ready!"

I tried to stand from the chair, but then I remembered my leg. I remembered that Anna had had to help me to this chair by the window, and that had taken most of her strength to do it. So instead, I stayed seated, leaning my body forward in anticipation.

Nothing could have prepared me for the amount of joy that overcame me the moment Jacob walked into the room. It felt as surreal as the moment, nearly five years ago, that Erin accepted my proposal.

You only get a few moments like this in your life, I think. These moments that make your heart grow so large it causes your lungs to constrict. These moments that you feel deep in your bones, and make you feel light as air. These moments that make every other moment, every other hardship, completely worth it.

Some days will go down in history. And right away I knew, this is one of them.

Jacob had barely stepped into the room, but my mind had already memorized his features. He had light brown hair, and he had freckles on his fair skin that matched my own. He had Erin's beautiful hazel eyes, and he may have had my smile, but the dimples set deep in his cheeks were all Erin.

His light brown hair had a little bit of a curl in it, and I found myself wondering if that had come from my mother.

"Hi," I whispered, and the sound of voice was so quiet and raw I cleared my throat and tried again. "Hi, Jacob."

At the sound of my voice, he hid behind his mother legs. He reached his tiny hands across her legs while keeping his body hidden, and it gave me a chance to take her in, as well. She seemed _a lot_ less sure of herself than she had when she walked in yesterday.

I knew that my fault, and I knew we would have to talk about that. But not yet. Not now.

"Jacob," Erin said evenly, and I noticed that her voice came out a lot calmer than she looked. I wonder if that was something that came with motherhood: learning how to be strong for your child. I wondered if one day I would get that trait, too. "It's okay, baby," she whispered, turning towards him and kneeling down. "You can go over and say hi."

It was as if her words gave him the courage, or the permission, he needed, because all of a sudden, he took off running towards me. Within seconds, he was right in front of me.

He stopped, though, inches from me and began to let his eyes wander my body, almost as if he was taking me in, memorizing my features, too.

It took all the strength I had to hold it together and repeat my words. "Hi Jacob," I said, calmer and sturdier this time around.

"Hi, Daddy!" He replied, his voice high and cheerful.

That's when the tears came.

My heart burst wide open, and I could no longer control it.

 _Daddy._

I should have tried harder though, because Jacob's face immediately fell. "I didn't mean to make you sad, Daddy," he said, and I realized that Erin was right. He really did speak a lot for a kid who was barely two and a half. I could understand every word out of his mouth.

 _Daddy._

"I'm not sad," I replied, and I moved my hand slowly to reach for his cheek. He didn't flinch when I touched him. But I did.

His skin was warm under my hands. _My son's_ skin was warm under my hands.

I just couldn't seem to hold it together. The moment was so surreal. "I'm just so happy to see you," I finally finished. "I've spent so long trying to get back to you," I moved my gaze away from his for a fraction of a second, just to make sure Erin knew I was talking to her, as well. "And..." _And this moment is everything I could have ever dreamed of. And more._ "And I'm just happy." I said, instead. "These are happy tears."

When I looked up again, Erin's eyes were full of tears as well. I motioned for her to come closer, and she did. She walked towards us and grabbed my hand with one hand, and she rested her hand on Jacob's head with the other.

"Welcome home, Daddy," she whispered.

Then she bent down and kissed me on the lips, right there in front of our son.

And for once, my heart was whole.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	12. Chapter 12

Hi everyone :) I'm sorry it has been so long since I've updated, but I hope you will cut me some slack because I had been working like crazy and I've been sick lol. But guess what?! Last week, I saved someone's life! She had a four year old son and it was pretty special :) That was totally unrelated to anything, I just thought I would share :) But I really will try not to leave you hanging after this one for too long lol! HAPPY READING!

 **Chapter 12,**

Jay's POV

I've had a son for a week now.

Well, more accurately, I've _known_ about my son for a week now. Or, I've _seen_ my son everyday for a week now.

God. Seven incredible days.

I could probably mark my days a number of other ways. I've had two major surgeries, one minor procedure, and I could easily mark my days by the 6 am wake up call by Anna every morning, coming in to draw my blood. Or by the vital's check she does every evening at 6 pm before she goes home to her family.

Or maybe, I could mark my days by my interactions with my surgeon, Paul.

 _"Are you ready?" Paul posed the question, when we were finally alone in the room. My hospital room was slowly becoming more comfortable to me, and that was mostly because of Jacob. He had taken it upon himself to cover every wall_ not _covered in medical supplies and oxygen tanks and with his original artwork. Finger paintings, stick figures, stickers... you name it, it graced on my wall._

 _Actually, only an hour before, Jacob had propped himself up on my good knee, and allowed me to hold him as I peppered him with questions about his life. Questions I already knew the answers to from Erin, but still needed to hear from him._

 _Every time he answered, he seemed to incorporate the word 'Daddy.' Almost as if he needed to say it, as much as I needed to hear it._

 _I had asked him his favorite food, and he said, "Pasketti, daddy."_

 _Then, I asked him his favorite color, and he said, "It's blue, daddy. Just like yours."_

 _"How did you know my favorite color was blue?" Was my immediate response._

 _"Mommy," he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. I looked up at Erin in that moment, holding her gaze with tears coming unbidden to my eyes._

Thank you _, I mouthed._

 _She smiled at me, and my world melted, and suddenly I wanted to stand from my chair, lift Jacob in my arms, and reach for her to thank her again. To thank her properly._

 _But there were no actions, that would ever be able to convey my feelings of appreciation that she had kept me as such a significant presence in my son's life, even though she had thought I was long gone. And there were no words._ _And, I also couldn't stand that easily on my own. So I just shook my head in exasperation and returned my gaze to my son._

 _We stayed like that for a long while, wrapped up in each other, trying to make up for lost time, to integrate each other into our worlds. It was pretty amazing._

 _But when forty-five minutes past, and the time was nearing for surgery, Erin made an excuse to leave. She said she needed to take Jacob to school, but I think she just didn't want him to see me and Paul interact. Or she didn't want me to see her and Paul interact._

 _I'm not sure which it was, but either one,_ _I can't say I blame her._

 _She kissed me softly, Jacob hugged me goodbye, and then I was alone._

 _For only a minute though, because then Paul walked in. He had me sign a bunch of forms, trying to keep it all professional, but then, as he began to roll me out of the safety of my hospital room, and down the hall towards the OR, he said, "Are you ready?"_

 _I wasn't sure what he was asking me._

 _Am I ready for this surgery?_

 _Am I ready for this new life with my son?_

 _Am I ready to let Erin all the way back in?_

I don't know. _"Are you?"_

 _In that moment, I knew exactly what I was asking him._

 _Are you ready to operate?_

 _Are you ready to give up your life with my son?_

 _Are you planning to give up your life with Erin?_

 _"Yes," he answered. And his voice was so confident, I almost believed him._

Or I could mark my days by the moments spent alone with Erin. I could mark my days by the times Erin leans into hold me, or to touch my hand.

 _"He's amazing," I whispered into her hair. It was my third day in the hospital, and I was about to undergo a minor procedure on my arm. She had brought Jacob in early, but then Voight had picked him up to take him to his Wednesday 'Mommy and Me' class._

 _I would've paid to see Hank Voight at 'Mommy and Me'. Serious money._

 _"I know," she whispered back, as her fingers slid softly along my bicep, tracing the lines between the muscles._

 _"I don't know how you did it," I said, really meaning it. She was an unbelievable mother. It was evident in every one of Erin's stories, in every one of Jacob's smiles._

 _Aside from that first day, though, we hadn't spoken much about Paul. And sometimes, when she told me a story about Jacob, I wondered if Paul was there. I wondered if she was leaving him out on purpose. But then, I would spend time with Jacob, and that fear would melt away._

 _Because it didn't matter if Paul was in his life or not. Jacob and I had an immeasurable bond._

 _Father and son._

 _It was the best bond there was._

 _"Honestly, me neither," she laughed softly, oblivious to my thoughts. "I got damn lucky with him." She lifted her head off my chest and looked into my eyes, and I could tell she recognized what she had just said. That she had said_ I _and not_ we. _"I think he had some good genes, though," she said, redeeming herself completely._

 _I reached for her cheek, "The best."_

Or maybe, I could mark the days by the times I sent Erin away.

 _"Kiss Jacob goodnight for me," I said, as the night sky took over and the room became dark. "And tell him I love him."_ And you. I love you.

 _She stiffened against me, but it was so subtle I almost didn't notice. "I could stay," she said, keeping her voice nonchalant and casual. Even though I knew her comment was anything but. We had been doing this same song and dance every night. "Hank has Jacob," she added, as if to reassure me that even though some other man would be taking care of my son tonight, it wouldn't be her fiance._

 _"No, you should go." I whispered, keeping my voice soft and casual to match her own. "Jacob has enough change going on," I continued. "He doesn't need to spend another night without his mother." It was my excuse._

 _A good one, maybe. But an excuse nonetheless._

 _"Okay," she whispered, lifting herself slowly off the twin hospital bed we were sharing, once again, like she did every other night._

 _It felt like it took her hours to slide her black boots onto her feet, to slip her leather jacket around her, for her to move towards me and lay one final kiss one my cheek before she inched her way towards the door._

 _She was taking her time, giving me a window to ask her to stay. She was begging me, in her own way, to change my mind._

 _But I never did. And I never told her why._

I could have measured my days by the moments I spent with Erin. Or I could've marked the seven days by the seven nights I spent alone.

By the seven terrifying nightmares that accompanied them.

By the vivid memories that stole my breath, that had me sweating through my sheets, thrashing around my bed, and screaming out in the middle of the night. The terror that rocked my body was so unbelievable, I was sure I would never _ever_ feel normal again.

Seven amazing days, seven equally horrendous nights.

There were so many ways to measure the time I spent in the hospital. But I chose to mark my days by the moments I spent with my son.

 _I could hear the beeps of the machines as I drifted into consciousness, but my eyelids felt heavy._

 _I could feel a warmth against my side, but I couldn't tell what it was._

 _I could hear the sound of voices, but they sounded far away._

 _I could hear the sound of snoring, but that surprised me the most, because it sounded completely unfamiliar, but extremely close. I forced my eyelids open, but it took a few moments for my vision to clear and for my eyes to adjust to the room._

 _That's when I looked down and saw my son curled into my side. Fast asleep. And it was just the two of us in the room._

 _"Hi," I whispered to him, even though I knew he couldn't hear me. "Hi, Jacob." My voice was raw, my throat sore. But I kept talking. "I'm your Daddy."_

 _"I know I've been gone for a long time," I shifted slightly, so that I could get a good look at his freckle-covered face. His curls were matted against his face, and his face was covered in that thin layer of sweat typical to babies when they sleep. "But I promise you, I will you love you forever." I reached out to touch his temple, brushing one of the curls aside. "And I will never leave you again."_

 _I knew there was more than one person I needed to say these words to. But it had been hard to say them out loud, and not just because my throat was sore from the anesthesia._

 _And so, a run with my sleeping son was the best way to practice._

 _He seemed to shift awake then, under the warmth of my fingers in his hair. "Hi, Daddy," he said softly, stretching against me in the tiny hospital bed._

 _"Hi, buddy," I said, smiling down at him. "How did you sleep?"_

 _"You're awake!"_ _He said, not even answering my question. He moved towards my newly casted leg, and then looking up at me. "Can I kiss your boo-boo all better?"_

 _I didn't know it was possible for my heart to grow even more, for me to fall even more in love._

 _"I would love that," I replied._

 _If anyone could kiss my boo-boo's and make everything all better, it would be him._

I could count the days in a number of ways. I had spent seven days and seven nights in this hospital room, feeling every emotion a person could possibly feel. But at the end of the day, I chose to hold onto the joy; to the beauty that was my new baby, the new light of my life.

I chose to count every moment I spent with him, and his mother, as precious. And to hope that one day, I would be able to let the rest of it go.

00000000000000000000000000000

On day eight, I found out I was being discharged home.

Paul told me. He and Erin had this remarkable - almost choreographed - way of never being in my room at the same time, and _never_ mentioning each other's names.

I may have called them out on it if I didn't appreciate it so damn much.

"Jay," he began, as he pulled up a chair beside my bed. The physical therapist had put me through the ringer, and I really wasn't up for another exam. The strength in my limbs and my range of motion were improving considerably, but with the added movement each day came nearly intolerable soreness and muscle fatigue.

Last night, it had hurt so bad that I had woken up several times from sleep. Although, it had been a blessing in disguise, because last night, I had never reached a deep enough sleep to allow for the nightmares to come.

"What's up, Paul?" Paul was dressed in his dress clothes, which told me he was spending this afternoon seeing patient's in his office instead of operating in the OR. I could tell he was much more relaxed in scrubs, though. He was smiliar to my brother in that way. Maybe that's why I found it so hard to dislike him.

Or maybe it was because he was a genuinely good guy. One that very clearly cared.

"I have spoken to your physical therapist," he continued, using his usual professional, but friendly tone. We had developed a kind of friendship, I think. It was another reason I was glad he and Erin kept their relationship completely hidden from. Sometimes when I talked to them separately, I found myself forgetting they even _had_ a relationship. I even found myself enjoying our conversations. "And we both feel that you can continue your therapy as an outpatient. I am clearing you to be discharged home this afternoon."

He falterd over saying the word as much as I faltered over hearing it.

Home.

 _Home._

Where was that even?

"Um," I opened my mouth, but closed it immediately when I realized I was about to ask him that question out loud. He would, of course, be a reasonable person to ask, though.

I knew Erin wasn't still living in our house. The beautiful house I had surprised her with, the one in which I had proposed in the living room, with the jacuzzi master bathtub, and the wrap around porch, and the _perfect_ backyard, had been sold when she had moved back in with Hank.

She had never told me where she moved after that though, and presumably, it's because she didn't exactly move alone.

"Does it have to be today?" I asked, as I avoided his piercing gaze. I knew if I looked up at him, he would be able to see right through my question.

It's funny. I had spent three years living through brutal torture, days of starvation, unbelievable pain. But I had also spent those same three years successfully controlling my emotions, hiding my fear and depression from any person I came across.

But it was almost as if these nightmares were taking all the energy I had, leaving me with no energy to spare during the day. I couldn't hide my feelings any longer.

"Are you not feeling up to it?" His voice was softer now. He stood from the chair he had pulled to my bed side and began reaching for the bottom of the blanket to uncover my leg. "How's your leg?" As I suspected, he assumed I didn't want to leave because I felt I hadn't healed from the most serious of my three operations.

"Sore as fuck," I said, laughing it off and reaching down to touch my own leg as well. The large cast from the first two days had been replaced by a much smaller one, and the majority of my bruised skin was now exposed. "Dara is working me pretty hard," I added, referring to my young physical therapist.

"I bet," he said, and I couldn't help but flinch at the way he smirked at me. Did he think I was interested in _Dara_? Did he not realize I had a _wife_?

Erin was my _wife_.

God, this situation was a mess. "Can I stay one more night?" I asked, completely ignoring the sentiment he insinuated with his question.

"Sure," he agreed, maybe a little too easily. "Get some rest," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."

Then he turned and left. Presumably, to go home to my wife.

0000000000000

An hour after Paul left, Erin showed up. And she didn't come empty handed.

In one arm was a soundly sleeping Jacob, his face tucked into her neck. He was wearing blue jeans and what I had recently learned was his favorite Blackhawks t-shirt, one that was a miniature version of a shirt that used to be one of my favorites. But then I had loved it because I loved seeing Erin walk around our house in it, hair all mussed, with nothing on but my t-shirt to cover her hot skin. It was a little different on my boy.

In the other arm, Erin was holding a large brown paper bag full of what smelled like Chinese take out.

Erin had spent the week spoiling me with all my favorite Chicago foods, and tonight was no exception. The smell immediately made my mouth water, it was the best smell in the world. "Something smells amazing," I said, but then she leaned over to hug me and I realized I needed to amend my previous statement. There was no better smell in the world than the smell of Erin Lindsay.

"Hi," she said, dropping the food on the table beside my bed. "I brought your favorites!" She said excitedly, and I almost responded _damn right, you did. You and Jacob._ But for some reason, my lips wouldn't form the words today.

"Hey, Halstead," The familiar voice of Hank Voight fell over the room, and I turned to see him standing in the doorway.

"I hope you don't mind," Erin said, quickly. "I invited Hank to join us."

She appeared nervous as she motioned Hank in, and right away, I knew why.

After dinner, she was going to hand Jacob to Hank, and she was going to insist on staying the night. And she was going to do it in front of Hank this time, the man she knew I'd never be able to disappoint her in front of.

 _Well played,_ I thought.

"I don't mind at all," I said, because really, what else was I going to say.

"It's good to see you again, Halstead," Voight said, as he moved towards the table that now held our dinner. "You look a lot better."

He had come to visit after my second surgery. He had brought regards, and a gift, from the whole team. But he had also delivered the message that as much as the team was looking forward to seeing me, they would wait until I indicated that I was ready.

Everyone was treading really lightly with me lately, and instead of resenting it, I found myself incredibly grateful for the sincerity and patience of my friends. Adapting to this new reality was enough to do all at once.

"I feel a lot better," I said. I watched as Hank rolled the table closer, and pulled chairs around for him and Erin. The large recliner that Erin usually chose to pull up next to me was now doubling as Jacob's bed, and so that one stayed in place. He was still sound asleep, snoring lightly, the now familiar sound music to my ears.

Erin began unloading the white and red chinese take-out containers from the bag, and immediately launched into a story about work that day. She had never been a particularly chatty person, but this wordy storytelling was actually nothing new. My very first Sunday night dinner as her _official_ boyfriend at Voight's house, she was so nervous she had talked nearly the whole time. Voight and I teased her shamelessly about it later, when we got comfortable enough to team up against her.

"Er," I interrupted her story. _Take a breath._ "Do you want an egg roll?" I said instead.

Before she could answer, Anna walked in the room. "Hey Anna," I said, giving her a genuine smile. It took me a few days to warm up to her, but when I finally had, I learned that Anna was married to Kelly Severide. The newlyweds were expecting a baby girl this coming June. And Anna didn't even usually work on this floor, she was a pediatric oncology nurse, but she had taken a special interest because Erin and Anna had, over the years, become friends.

"Evening vitals?" I said, shaking my good arm free and shifting my t-shirt up to give her access to my arm. I was no longer sporting the blue and white hospital gown, but Anna had only agreed to allow me to wear regular clothes if they didn't interfere with her access to my arm.

"You know," she said, as she fastened the white blood pressure cuff around me. "I have to say, I'm going to miss these evening dates," she said, winking at me.

 _Shit._

"Why? Where are you going?" Erin asked Anna, completely oblivious to my pending discharge status.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, raising her eyebrow in a confused expression. "Jay is," she added slowly.

"What?" Erin's voice completely betrayed her nerves, and for the first time since I had returned to Chicago, actually for the first time _ever_ , I wished she _wasn't_ there. Every minute of every day, I wished she was in this room with me. Even the nights I pushed her away, I reached for her in the night and I wished she was lying beside me. But for the first time, I wished Anna and I had been in the room alone.

Because I wasn't ready to answer that question.

"Where are you going?" Erin's voice had calmed considerably, but it was still pretty raw with emotion.

Voight shifted uncomfortably, seemingly wishing that _he_ wasn't here for this conversation, either.

"I'm getting discharged tomorrow," I said, completely evading her question. Because, really, I didn't have an answer. Where _was_ I going?

All at once, though, she brightened. "You are?!" She exclaimed. "That's wonderful news!" She stood, almost as if she couldn't contain her excitement sitting down in the hospital chair. "Jacob will be so happy!"

 _But will you?_

 _Will Paul?_

In that moment, I was so thankful that Anna needed me to readjust my position to remove the cuff, because I wasn't sure I could have looked Erin in the eye without blurting out those questions.

It's in that same moment though that Jacob began to wake up, and suddenly the focus was shifted from me, and for that I was grateful. _Unbeliavably_ grateful.

And then I was even more grateful when Jacob woke up and had to go to the bathroom. Hank immediately offered to take him, but he insisted he wanted his mommy to go.

And so Erin and Jacob left, followed by Anna, and then Hank and I were left alone.

"Halstead," Voight said, his voice low and gruff. I forced myself to meet his eye.

But where I thought I would find judgment and disappointment, I instead found understanding.

Without a word, I nodded.

"Why don't you come home with me?" He asked slowly, as if testing out the question.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I must have been holding for the past eight days. The weight that was lifted from my shoulders was so incredible, it was as if all the pain momentarily melted away and I could breath again.

"Okay," I sighed. "Okay."

 **xoxo**

Please Review :)


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks for all the happy comments and reviews last week :) Y'all are the best! Also guess what?! I delivered a baby yesterday named JACOB. Hahahah my new favorite name :) Happy reading! And hope you all have a fantastic week!

 **Chapter 13,**

 **Erin's POV**

He's coming home.

Home. _Tomorrow._

I put on my best surprised face, but actually, I had already known. Paul told me earlier that day, when we were out looking at apartments.

 _"This is dumb," Paul whined, as I drove us to the second listing. "The first one was fine."_

 _I turned on my blinker as I simultaneously rolled my eyes under my sunglasses. "The first one was_ not _fine," I countered, as I drove my black sedan down the tree lined street. Now_ this _neighborhood was more of what I had in mind._

 _"Erin, it's okay," his voice was so soft, and I knew we were about the have the conversation. The conversation I had been putting of for days now because I knew it wasn't going to be an easy one._

 _Suddenly, I was so grateful we were in the car, and I didn't have to hold his gaze while I said what I needed to say. "It's not okay," I replied, feeling terrible. It didn't matter if I found him the best apartment or house in Chicago. He would still be living there alone. "I'm so sorry. I just-"_

 _"Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for," he reached over the middle console and gripped my hand tightly. An unbidden tear came to my eye, and my sunglasses began to fog slightly. "I have always known that Jay Halstead was the love of your life." My breath hitched at the sound of Jay's name, and another tear began to form. "And you know that if it was Tracy, I would be have been out that door so fast I would-"_

 _"I know," I answered quietly. "I know." It was the one redeeming part of this whole situation, the depths of which he understood. He was making this so easy on both of us. "I just..." want you to be happy? Want you to find someone who makes your heart beat as rapidly as Jay makes mine? "I just want you to have a nice place to live."_

 _"Okay," he replied. And I knew he was conceding only to appease me, to make me feel a little less guilty._

 _I let him, though. "Okay."_

 _I shifted another lane, as we neared closer to the apartment building. It was ten minutes from Chicago Med, and only fifteen minutes from my apartment. I just hoped it would be as nice on the inside as it looked on the outside, because the last apartment had been a bust._

 _We drove in silence for another minute before he spoke up. "Have you told him yet?"_

 _I sucked in a breath, and before I even spoke the words he knew my answer. "Erin," he chided. "You have to tell him! What are you waiting for?"_

 _I pulled into the parking lot that surrounded the apartment building, and began to busy myself looking for any empty spot, pretending I hadn't really heard his question._

 _How could I explain to him something I couldn't even fully understand myself. I_ wanted _to tell Jay, but I couldn't. Every time I opened my mouth to say, 'I'm not engaged anymore' or 'Paul moved out', I got tongue tied and it was like my mouth refused to enunciate the words._

 _Maybe it was the fact that he seemed more interested in bonding with Jacob than he did in re-bonding with me. No, I didn't blame him for that one. That wasn't it at all._

 _It was the fact that he hadn't kissed me since that first day._

 _It was the fact that day after day, night after night, he_ still _insisted on sending me away and sleeping alone._

 _It was the fact that his smile, his laugh, made my heart pound so fast I feared it would jump out of my chest, but then I didn't seem to have that affect on him at all._

I'm scared. _"I don't know," I answered finally._

 _"Well," Paul said, as he began to open his door. "You'll have to tell him soon." He moved around the car to meet me as I got out on my side. The Chicago weather was crisp, but the sun warmed our faces as we continued to stand by the car. "Because I'm discharging him home today."_

"Mommy," Jacob and I were walking back into Jay's hospital room from the bathroom. "When is Daddy going to come home?"

This wasn't the first time he had asked me this question, and this wasn't the first time I had evaded answering. I lifted him into my arms and said, "I don't know, baby," even though I wanted to say _tomorrow!_

But I had a sinking feeling that wasn't _actually_ going to be the case. Paul had told me that Jay would be discharged this afternoon, but in fact, he was staying until tomorrow. _And_ on top of that, he hadn't actually told me himself, Anna had been the one to bring it up.

Now, I couldn't exactly blame him. He more than likely thought _home_ meant with me, Jacob, and Paul, and I couldn't see how comfortable he would be with _that_ arrangement.

"But Paul said Daddy was coming home soon," Jacob whined, as I shifted him from one hip to the other.

"He is," I sighed. Paul had taken Jacob to Chuckie Cheese as a special treat just the two of them to tell him he was moving out. Paul had only lived with Jacob and me for a couple months, but still, they had grown close. Paul had explained to him that he had just been staying with us and helping out while his Daddy had been gone, and now he was going to go live somewhere else. But he also told Jacob that he could visit him at his new apartment anytime.

"I just don't know when soon is, baby." _I wish I did though._

"Okay," he pouted.

When we got back to Jay's hospital room, Hank was already sliding into his coat. "Okay, little man," he said to Jacob, "It's time to go."

"But _grandpa,_ " he whined, "I don't want to." Jacob did this every time he had to leave Jay's side, and it simultaneously made me smile and broke my heart. I loved how quickly Jay and Jacob were bonding. It was the one thing that actually gave me hope that he might decide to come home with us. Jay may not want to be with me anymore, but he _definitely_ wanted to be with Jacob.

But at the same time, it was heart-wrenching to watch.

"Come here, buddy," Jay said, patting the side of his bed and motioning for Jacob to hop up. Jacob wiggled out of my arms and ran to the side of the bed, as Jay helped him up. "Be a good boy for grandpa, and I will see you tomorrow after school, okay?"

"Okay," he pouted, as he leaned his tiny body into Jay's larger one. "I love you, daddy," he tried to whisper into Jay's ear, even though I could hear him loud and clear.

"I love you, too, buddy," Jay whispered back as he ruffled his curls and pressed a kiss against his forehead. "I love you, too."

After a couple more minutes of snuggling and whispering, I moved towards the bed. "Jacob, it's time to go, come on."

At the sound of my voice, Jay dragged his blue eyes away from Jacob and settled them on me. "Can you stay?" The way he asked, softly, almost tentatively, as if I would even _consider_ saying no made me want to laugh out loud.

Maybe I would have laughed, too, if it wasn't so damn sad. "Of course." _I hadn't been planning on going anywhere,_ I wanted to say. _I never want to go anywhere without you, ever again._

I lifted Jacob from the bed and carried him over to Hank, who was standing halfway in and halfway out the hospital room door, trying to give up some semblance of privacy.

When I reached Hank, he looked like he wanted to say something. Like he wanted to _warn_ me about something, but when I raised my eyebrow in question, he just shook his head. "I'll take him to my place," he said, "Just let me know if you want to pick him up on your way home, or if I should keep him for the night." We did this song and dance every night, and Hank knew, as well as I did, that I'd be picking up Jacob in an hour. Whether I wanted it to be that way or not.

"Thanks, Hank," I said, passing my baby boy over to him. "I love you, Jacob," I whispered against his forehead, laying a kiss against him in the exact spot his father had only moments before.

"I love you too, Mommy," he replied, a smile resting on his tiny lips.

"Goodnight," I brushed my finger against his chubby cheek once more before I watched him and Hank walked away. By the time they turned the corner, Jacob was already talking Hank's ear off and his laughter was echoing down the hall.

Oh, what it must be like to be two and half years old. First, his dad is dead. Then, Paul moves in. Then, his dad's not dead. Now, he's falling asleep at his grandpa's house every night and waking up in his own bed. And does it phase him? No. Does it cause him even a moment's worry? No. Because in his world, everything is always going to be okay.

Somtimes I wonder if it's because he's not even three years old, or if _maybe,_ just maybe, it's something _I_ did. A feeling of comfort and security that _I_ instilled. Because really, even at two and a half years old, I _knew_ everything wasn't _always_ going to be okay.

Well, I guess I must be doing something right.

I moved back into the room, and began dragging the big corner chair closer to Jay's side of the bed. The room was silent, except the sound of the wooden chair legs scraping against the linoleum floor. "Hi," I said, as I sat down in the chair, now that we were finally alone.

"Hi," he replied, and right away I noticed that his voice sounded a lot less calm than it had moments before when he had been talking to our son.

"So, you're coming home tomorrow," I began, trying to ignore his waivering tone. I reached for his hand to thread my fingers through, more to calm myself than for him.

As soon as my fingers touched his skin, he began to speak. "Er, I-"

"Wait," I said, cutting him off, not wanting to hear what he was about to say next. I didn't want to hear where he stood, at least not until he heard where _I_ stood. "I need to tell you something." I had had ample opportunities to bring this up, and I had pushed it off. I couldn't push it off any longer.

"Paul and I aren't engaged anymore," I admitted, while trying to keep my voice as level as possible.

" _What?_ " Jay's voice was not only surprised, but he seemed almost irritated. "Since when?"

 _Since the moment I heard your voice on the other end of the phone._ "A couple of days," I said, instead. "A week."

"Why?" His clear blue eyes, still as light as the ocean, seemed to be closed off. I couldn't read the thoughts behind them, and it made me nervous.

"What do you mean why?" I asked. This wasn't exactly how I had expected this conversation to go. "You _know_ why."

He didn't answer, but instead, he moved his hand out from underneath mine, disentangling our fingers until the warmth of his hand was completely gone.

After he shifted his fingers away, he followed it by shifting his gaze away, too. "When I leave the hospital tomorrow," he said, looking down at the white hospital blanket that had become almost like his security blanket these past few days. "I..."

When he paused, I waited with baited breath for him to finish his sentence. My heart was pounding in my chest, so much so I could hear it in my ears.

The same heart that had been shattered so many times.

I couldn't imagine it could get much worse.

"I am going to live with Voight."

But then, recently I had learned, your heart can always find new ways to break.

 **Jay's POV**

She isn't engaged anymore.

Paul has, presumably, moved out of her apartment. She has pushed him out, presumably, to make room for me.

But when she did that, she didn't know. She _still_ doesn't know. She doesn't know about my nightmares, about the terrors that keep my up late into the night, _every_ night.

And she doesn't know that I can't move in with her, I can't _be_ with her, until I get a handle on them.

Really, I can't be with her until they go away completely.

I grew up in a house with a father that scared me, and I wasn't going to do that to my son. Jacob was never _ever_ going to witness me in the throes of a nightmare. And neither was Erin.

I was doing what was best for both of them.

Knowing that though, didn't make breaking Erin's heart any easier. The look she gave me when I delivered the news, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forget the confusion in her brow, or the sadness in her eyes.

I was finding new ways to disappoint her everyday.

"Halstead," Hank's voice broke through my inner pity party, as he lifted my bag over his shoulder. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah." With my arm mostly healed, I was able to maneuver around with crutches. I still wasn't the most coordinated, but with Anna and Dara's help, I had slowly been improving. "I'm ready." Voight and I talked about it, and he agreed to let me go back to work tomorrow. He's keeping me on desk duty, and I suspect he only said yes to get me out of the house, but still.

I moved towards the door, but when I made it to the threshold, I stopped and turned around, slowly taking in the room that had been my home for the last nine days. The drawing and artwork that had covered the walls had all been removed, put in a stack for me to take home. All of my belongings that had been scattered around were now tucked into the bag Voight had resting on his shoulder. It barely looked like the same room.

But even so, it was the first room I had slept in back on American soil. And even with the nightmares, even with the anger and the disappointment and all the sadness, it was more precious to me that I cared to explain. It was the first place in three years that I could remember feeling safe.

I almost didn't want to leave. "Jay," Voight said, his voice was calm as he said my first name. "Everything is going to be okay," he added, as he touched my shoulder.

I stepped out of the doorway and followed him then, even though I wasn't sure if I actually believed him.

 **Erin POV**

When I got to work the next day, Jay was standing in the breakroom. He was pouring a cup of coffee, like he had _hundreds_ of times before, like he had been doing it everyday for years.

Except, of course, he hadn't been doing it for years.

 _What the hell?_

I was running late because Jacob had been a _terror_ this morning. He had woken up during the transfer from my car to his bed last night, which he usually didn't do, and he hadn't been able to fall back asleep.

By the time he _had_ finally fallen asleep, I had to wake him up and take him to daycare. Then his favorite shirt wasn't clean, because between taking care of him alone and my dead husband coming back to life, I hadn't exactly had a chance to get the laundry done. But I couldn't exactly explain that to a two year old, and so he was _not_ thrilled with me.

"What's Jay doing here?" Kim whispered to me. I looked at her surprised; she was already at her desk, shouldn't she know the answer to that question?

But then, of course she would assume _I_ would know. I was his wife after all.

I ignored her question, too embarassed to answer truthfully with _I don't know_ and instead, I moved towards the break room. I closed the door quietly behind me as I walked inside.

Staring at him in the break room, I felt myself being transported to years ago, when we used to stand in this room, full of sexual tension and longing, wishing we could find a way to be a _real_ couple. Before any of the rest of it.

"Hey," I said quietly, and only after the words came out did I realize I said them like a sigh. We were never going to be able to go back to that time. That time that had seemed so _complicated,_ when really, things had never been more simple.

Jay barely turned around to face me, and I noticed that his hands were trembling slightly. He was hunched over, and his posture was stiff. When he did finally turn around, he looked _exhausted._

"Are you okay?" I knew it was a stupid question, but it was better than the one Kim had asked, the one I really _wanted_ to ask.

"Yeah."

 _Liar._ I could tell right away he didn't mean it, even without the way he could barely meet my eyes.

He turned back to his coffee as I moved closer to him, and I began taking in his whole appearance as I walked. It was the first time I saw him out of his hospital attire. He was wearing a pair of dark washed jeans. They were snug on his butt, making me want to reach out and touch it, but as they moved down his legs, I noticed he cut a slit to make room for his cast. His grey t-shirt was tight against his muscles, and for the first time, his arm bared no IVs. Even his bruises were nearly gone.

By the time I reached for him, I _needed_ to feel his skin. I reached, first, for his shoulder, and even though he flinched slightly, I kept my hand there. I could tell the feeling of my hands on his shoulder surprised him, but I didn't care.

Touching in the hospital when he was in bed, when we were getting over the shock of even being in the same room together, was one thing. But _here..._ well, here was the start of the rest of his _real_ life. And it seemed like he was still trying to decide if I was going to be in it or not.

"I think I'm a little out of my element here," I said, trying and failing to lighten the mood. I kept my one hand on his shoulder, and moved the other one to the other side. I leaned my face in between his shoulder blades, and rested my face against the cotton there. "I know you are, too."

I knew I should move my body away, I knew I should give him the space he was so clearly asking for, but I just couldn't bring myself to. Instead, I stayed like that, breathing his scent in and out, allowing it to fill my lungs. "We are just going to have to do the best we can to figure all this out."

When he didn't say anything more, I added. "For Jacob."

At the sound of his son's name, he finally turned to face me. "Yeah," he said, the same word he had said before, but this time, I could tell he wasn't lying to me. "I promise you, we will figure this out."

He seemed to want to say more, but after a few moments, I realized he wasn't going to.

"Why don't you come over for dinner?" I asked, after realizing we clearly weren't going to address _what_ he was doing here. "After work today."

"Okay," he said, and I could tell he was trying to act more confidently than he actually felt. But then, his eyes drifted from my eyes to my lips, and then back to my eyes. The magnetic pull I had felt everyday in the hospital seemed to finally be reaching him, because I could tell he finally wanted to kiss me. "I'd like that," he said, his voice now soft and actually calm.

Our eyes stayed lock on each others for several moments, and the charge in the room felt palpable. I held my breath, waiting for him to change his mind and look away.

But instead, he leaned forward ever so slightly, as if giving me adequate time to pull away if I wanted to. Then he placed his lips gently on mine.

And it was like my world fell away.

His warm lips moving against my own, his tongue sweeping the insides of my mouth, it was like nothing else in the world mattered.

And as our kiss deepened, his hands found my waist. His fingers dug into me, and his warmth felt equal parts familiar and new.

And as he continued to hold me, just for a moment, I forgot where we were.

But when he pulled away, and the kiss broke apart, I remembered. "Come home," I pleaded, hoping in this moment of weakness, he might _finally_ agree.

To his credit, it looked like it pained him to respond, "I can't."

And just like that, we were forced back into reality.

The reality where we lived apart. Where we had separate lives.

The reality where _that_ was the way he wanted it.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	14. Chapter 14

Hi everyone :) Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews, comments, and PMs! It makes me so so so happy to read them :) I love knowing that people are still interested in this story. Y'all are seriously THE best :) It makes me so motivated to keep writing, so keep it up! Happy reading :)

 **Chapter 14,**

 **Jay's POV**

I pulled up outside Erin's apartment building fifteen minutes early. I recognized the address right away when Voight gave it to me, her new building only being two blocks away from the first apartment we had shared together. I navigated the familiar roads easily, but when I pulled into the parking spot and turned off the ignition of the car Voight had let me borrow, instead of getting out right away, I just sat in the car, taking in my surroundings.

I had walked past this building a thousand times. Hell, I had driven past the tall skyscrapers surrounding it more times than I could count. The pizza place on the corner still held the exact same _Help Wanted_ sign in the door that they had had three years ago. The Thai restaurant was the same, still with a line out of the door at this hour, as was the Chinese restaurant across the street from that one. All these familiar places that Erin and I had frequented over our years together in that first apartment; they were all completely unchanged.

Just like earlier today, at work.

The minute I walked in, everyone embraced me right back into the family as if I had never left. Evidently, they had been itching to see my during my stay at the hospital, but Voight had kept them away for fear it might be too overwhelming. Within minutes though, I had settled into my desk and we were joking around like it was just another day.

One again though, I had expected things to have changed, but they hadn't.

Ruzek and Atwater were still partners, although they had both made detective in the time I had been gone. Atwater still walked around with the same toothpick in his mouth half the time, and Ruzek and Burgess still seemed to have the same sexual tension going on, but were evidently still 'just friends'. Burgess, too, had passed her detective's exam. Olinsky was still hiding in the same corner of the bullpen, only peering out to contribute when absolutely necessary. And I swear, the beanie on his head was the same one he had worn everyday for the entire time I knew him. And Dawson was back in Intelligence after his brief stint at the DA's office, and he was currently partnered up with Erin.

So maybe _some_ things had changed.

But the lobby, Platt's desk, the bullpen, the break room, the locker room, even Voight's office... everything looked like it hadn't changed since the moment I stepped out the door that very last time.

Except, it _felt_ different.

God, _everything_ felt different. And not really in a good way.

And as I sat in my car outside Erin's new apartment building, that feeling came back. That feeling that things were the same, but different, but the same - and that I couldn't figure out how to navigate it. It felt like an unbelievable weight on my shoulders, one that was so heavy and unbearable, I couldn't stand from my seat and get out of the car.

I took several deep breaths to shake the feeling away.

 _My boy is in there_ , I kept telling myself. Not to mention my girl. My girl that had kissed me just this morning. God, my lips had buzzed for _hours_ after that. It had been the most amazing kiss I ever remember experiencing, until I had ruined it.

 _Stop thinking about that and get up._

I forced myself to unbuckle my seat belt and open the door. Then, I forced myself to take one foot and put it on the ground.

 _One step at a time,_ I told myself as I took three more deep breaths.

Then, I put another foot down. And then, before I knew it, I had pulled my crutches out of the car and was maneuvering to the front door.

 _You can do this._

At least, I hoped so.

 **Erin POV**

Dinner had gone better than I could've ever imagined. But it was also kind of weird.

Jay knocked on the door, and when I went to open it, we shared a brief, albeit tension-filled moment before Jacob call barreling towards the doorway.

"Daddy, daddy!" Jacob catapulted himself against Jay's good leg, hugging him fiercely.

"Baby," I said, trying to pull him back. "Let Daddy come inside before you tackle him," I joked, and a nervous laugh came unbidden from my throat.

When I looked up, though, Jay was smiling, and I could tell he didn't mind at all. One of the best parts about having Jacob in this situation is how quickly the tension dissipates away in his presence. Well that, and how much Jay seems to light up when they're together.

"Hi, buddy," he said, as he ruffled Jacob's hair. "How was daycare?"

"Daycare was great, Daddy," Jacob replied, as he began to direct Jay to the living room. I noticed that Jacob seemed to end every sentence with the word Daddy, as if he was trying to make up for all three years of missed opportunities in one conversation.

I couldn't blame him, though. I found myself doing that, too.

Losing someone changes you. Knowing the depths of pain that goes along with losing someone you love makes you fear that it will happen again. It's why I never let Jacob out of my sight for the first year of his life, refusing to get a babysitter, even _after_ Hank staged a mini intervention. And it's why I didn't want to let Jay out of my sight now.

I followed the pair down the hallway as they continued to chat away.

"Daddy," Jacob had settled into his new favorite spot, in his Daddy's side. "After dinner, can you come see my room?"

Jay turned to face him, and squeezed his cheek before he continued. It was another thing I noticed, that Jay continuously touched Jacob's hair, or his cheek, or his shoulder, or his hand. Almost as if he _,_ too, was afraid he might disappear. "Can I see it now?" He asked, mirroring the same excitement Jacob had in his voice.

"YES!" Jacob shouted, immediately jumping off the couch. "Can we, mommy? Can we?"

Suddenly my role as observer shifted, and I had two pairs of bright blue eyes staring my way. "Of course, baby. But then go wash your hands for dinner, okay?"

"Okay!"

Jacob waited patiently at the door, as Jay struggle to shift from the couch to standing with his crutches. I watched, but I didn't say anything, and I didn't offer to help. After all these years, I still knew Jay Halstead well enough not to do that.

They both walked towards the back hallway, and reluctantly, I stayed back, knowing I needed to give them time alone. It was the one thing they rarely had at the hospital: real, quality alone time. Jacob needed it. And I could tell Jay needed it, too.

I moved towards the kitchen, stirring the pot of turkey chili I had on the stove. Next, I opened the oven and checked the tray of vegetables that were broiling. Deeming that they were cooked the way I liked them, I turned off the oven and began to set the table in the kitchen.

One of my favorite things about this apartment, and actually, the reason I finally settled on it, was the kitchen. It was larger than your average apartment kitchen, and brighter. It had a bar with room for several stools, as well as a breakfast nook next to a large window, with room for four people to sit comfortably. One of the things I had learned growing up in Camille's kitchen, one of the things that stuck with me, was that the kitchen was the center of the house, and once I had Jacob, I knew I was going to need a good one.

"Something smells good in here," I heard his voice before I saw him, but when I turned around, he was already walking over to the stove to peek under the top of the boiling pot. "Wait - did you _make_ this?"

I moved towards him, and playfully swatted his hand away. "Don't act so surprised," I replied, and I gave him a sultry look to match my wry tone.

"Um," he raised a teasing eyebrow at me in return. "The Erin Lindsay I knew did _not_ cook." He lifted the top again, and leaned down to smell the contents. "Actually, the Erin Lindsay I knew didn't even know how to turn on the stove."

"Shut up," I laughed, and _god_ did it feel good to laugh with him again. I couldn't seem to stop the huge smile that overtook my face.

"I guess some things did change while I was gone."

The way he spoke the words was wistful, but it didn't _seem_ negative. At least, I didn't think so. And so, I decided to take advantage of the easy moment we had just shared, by leaning into him and pinning him between me and the stove. "Not everything," I said, before pressing my lips lightly against his.

"No," he whispered back, and suddenly the teasing tone, the easy moment, was gone, replaced by a charged, magnetic interaction. "Not everything," he repeated my words, as his eyes stayed glue on my own.

 _God._ Talk about mixed signals.

 **Jay's POV**

As I stared into Erin's eyes, I almost forgot where I was. I almost forgot everything that had happened that lead me to that moment, standing with her in that gorgeous kitchen.

She seemed to have that affect on me. One look in those gorgeous hazel eyes, one look at those dimples, and I was lost.

Jacob's tiny footsteps running into the kitchen back me brought to the present though, and I couldn't even be mad at the interruption. The smile on that little boy's face, the one that came with another set of dimple's all his own... well, I was a whole different kind of lost.

"This is amazing," I said, as I took the first bite of my chili, several minutes later when we had sat down at the table. The table was right next to a large window, one that overlooked the Chicago skyline. The view of the city may have been breathtaking, but my view at the table was even better.

"Thank you," Erin smiled, and her eyes found mine for a moment before she went back to blowing on Jacob's bite, cooling it down before giving it to him.

"When did you learn to cook?" I asked, as I took a bite of the seasoned vegetables she had taken from the oven and settled into a blue serving dish I had never seen before. We had registered for lots of kitchen items when we got married, because that's evidently what you're supposed to do. But of course, _none_ of our friends bought us anything from our registry. Instead, they bought hundreds of dollars worth of restaurant gift cards, and gave us a wrapped booklet of take-out menus.

The funniest part of the whole thing, the part Erin and I had laughed about for hours later, was that we already _had_ all those takeout menus. My girl could _not_ cook. And, well, I may have been able to boil pasta and scramble some eggs, but I didn't do much better than she did.

"Voight taught me," she replied, sheepishly.

"Really?" Voight had always been able to cook, that I knew. We had been over for Sunday night dinners at least once a month, even more after we were married, and he had never once ordered from a restaurant. But I also knew that Erin had never taken an interest in cooking before. Camille had tried to teach her when she moved in with them at sixteen. She had told Erin that she should learn to cook for when she had a family of her own one day, and Erin had just scoffed at her in response. She could never have imagined having a family.

I remember the day she told me that story so vividly. I remember reaching out and squeezing her hand, and I remember holding back the words that were in my heart. _I want a family with you._

I had wanted a family with her _forever._ But she had never wanted kids, and I had never pushed.

So actually, yeah, some things really _had_ changed.

"Really," Erin replied, after what seemed like several minutes. She had been busying herself cutting vegetables for Jacob, not even realizing that I had been lost in thought. "When I moved with him, after..." she paused, almost looking embarrassed by the slip. "After Jacob was born," she covered, even though she and I both knew that's not what she was going to say. "I decided I should learn." I could tell she was trying to lighten the mood when she added, "You know, I couldn't feed my growing boy here Chinese food every night."

"I LOVE Chinese food," Jacob interrupted, his mouth full of the carrots Erin had just cut up and cooled off for him.

"You do not eat Chinese food," Erin countered, a laugh bubbling out of her. "I promise, I do not feed your son Chinese food!" She stared at me as if I would be put off my her feeding my child take-out, as if I knew anything about feeding children. But instead of making me sad that _no,_ I really didn't, it warmed my heart. _Your son_ , she had said. As if it was the most normal thing in the world.

I guess I was still just getting used to that.

 **Erin's POV**

After dinner, I told Jay I needed to bathe Jacob and put him to bed. I hinted that he could join me, without outright asking, because honestly, this repeatedly being rejected by him was becoming more than I could take.

He seemed to take the hint though. "Can I help?" He asked, sheepishly.

As if I would _ever_ say no. "Of course," I quickly responded, passing my tired baby off to him. Jay had worn him out considerably after dinner. Jacob wanted to show his Daddy every single toy he owned, and Jay was all too happy to oblige. The clean up was going to take _forever_ in the morning, but I couldn't bring myself to care about that. Watching my son play with his father, with my _husband,_ it was amazing. It was more than amazing, I don't even have words to describe how unbelievable it felt. I had _dreamt_ of these moments a thousand time, and they seemed to all be happening right in front of me.

Even bath time was memorable. Jacob, who _hated_ bath time, got in easily, because his Daddy was there to help. "This cup," Jacob gestured towards the cup that I always used to rinse the shampoo out of his hair.

"Okay, buddy," Jay replied. He had rolled up his sleeves, but I could've told him it was a waste. His shirt was already drenched with soapy water, as were his jeans. "Lean back," he said, and then he lifted his hand to cover Jacob's eyes and poured the water slowly over his hair to wash the shampoo out.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" I asked, riveted by the sight in front of me.

"What do you mean?" Jay asked, as he slid his gaze towards me briefly, before returning his attention to Jacob and repeating the movement. He used the blue cup so seamlessly, without getting a drop of water in our son's eyes.

When he looked at me again, I motioned towards the blue cup. "Believe it or not, Hank taught me how to bathe Jacob," I revealed, and even though I knew I should've been embarassed by the admission, I wasn't. I was just happy to be in this moment, having a normal conversation with Jay.

"Really?" The grin that spread to his lips made my heart do a flip. God, I missed that grin.

He used to look at me like that all the time. But it seemed like now, those looks were harder to come by.

"Really," I replied, laughing and pushing away that less than happy thought. "God, you should've seen me in the beginning," I said. "I had _no idea_ what I was doing."

His grin disappeared, and immediately I regretted my words. "I wish I'd been here," he whispered, and I thought I could hear evidence of tears clogging his throat, but he looked away before I could see if there were any present in his eyes.

"Well," I said, putting my hand over his. "You're here now."

 **Jay's POV**

Every so often, doubt would creep in. Doubt that I wasn't doing enough. Doubt that I wasn't going to _be_ __enough.

Sometimes, it was sadness that crept in. Sadness that I had managed to miss _so_ much. That I didn't know my son's favorite toy, or how he liked his carrots cut and cooled, that I hadn't known that the brown towel with the monkey hood was his favorite. That I had over two years to catch up on of my son's life, and over three of my wife's.

But then spending time with the two of them in their home, eating dinner, joking around, playing with toys, bathing him, putting him to sleep - it really helped me shove those thoughts away.

I mean, one look at my curly-haired, blue-eyed son and I was able to shove pretty much _everything_ away. And anything left melted away when I looked at my heart-breakingly beautiful wife.

"One more book," Jacob begged, giving me his sweetest smile. I recognized my own smile in his, other than the added dimples that were definitely all Erin. He was like the perfect little fusion of the two of us. All of the best, and none of the worst.

"Oookay," I dragged out the word as if this was some sort of hardship, even though, if I was being honest, I never wanted to leave this bed. I was sitting against the light blue painted wall, with Jacob tucked into my side. And on the other side of him, was Erin. Every time she leaned in to pepper Jacob with a kiss, I caught a scent of her vanilla shampoo and _every time_ it stole my breath.

I had spent so many hours in my cell dreaming of that smell. One time, in a dream, I could've sworn I actually smelled it.

I remember that I wept shamelessly that morning when I woke up and realized the smell was gone.

"Which book?" Erin asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"Love you forever," he replied, as he moved his body forward to reach towards his book shelf. His tiny arms couldn't actually reach, so Erin scooted over to retrieve it.

"Okay," she said, "Who's reading? Me or Daddy?"

Every time she called me Daddy, I couldn't help but smile like an idiot. I grabbed the book away from her before Jacob even had a chance to reply. Even though, I'm pretty sure we both knew what his answer was going to be. "This was my _favorite_ book as a kid," I said, staring at the familiar blue paperback book. "My mom used to read this to me almost every night."

"Really?" Erin asked, and she seemed to have tears in her eyes.

"Really," I answered, reaching across Jacob to place a hand on her thigh.

Before even opening it, I began to say the lines that were tattooed like a memory on my heart.

"I'll love you forevers,

I'll like you for always,

As long as I'm living,

My baby you'll be."

I wonder if she knew I was talking to her.

 **Erin POV**

"I love you, baby. Goodnight," I whispered against a nearly sleeping Jacob, as I nestled him under the covers.

"Goodnight, mommy," he whispered back.

I moved away, giving Jay a chance to say goodnight, too. I probably should have given them a little more privacy, but lately, it was like nothing could tear me away from witnessing these moments.

I watched as Jay leaned over and kissed him on the forehead before whispering, "I love you, Jacob."

"I love you, too, Daddy."

I think I loved hearing him say that as much as Jay did. Maybe more.

We walked together out of Jacob's room, closing the door quietly before we found ourselves together in the hallway.

Once again, without our little buffer, the air felt charged between us. I could still feel where his hand had rested on my leg the entire time he had read the story to Jacob. I had missed his warmth immediately when he removed it at the end of the story. "Thanks for coming," I whispered, although I'm not sure why I felt the need to be so quiet. Jacob would sleep through a fire alarm if I let him.

"Thank you for letting me come," he replied. I would've been upset that we were being so damn polite to each other, but his voice sounded so genuine, I couldn't find it in me to be upset.

So instead, I just replied, "You can come again tomorrow, if you want."

"Yeah?" He replied, another Halstead grin coming to his face.

God, I loved that grin. I wanted to reach out and touch the lines it created in his cheek, to feel the warmth there.

"Yeah," I smiled back.

We turned and walked down the hallway into the living room, where Jacob's toys were covering nearly every available surface.

"Can I help you clean up?" He asked, breaking the awkward silence that had arisen during the walk down the hall.

"No, don't be silly," I replied, although, I immediately regretted it. I would have done anything to spend more time with him, even clean up all these toys. "I'll do it tomorrow, I'm exhausted." I'm not sure why I said that either. I wasn't tired at all. My body was _buzzing,_ there was so much adrenaline pumping through my veins. Being in the same room, alone, with Jay seemed to have that affect on me, lately.

Actually, being alone with Jay had _always_ had that affect on me.

"I should go then," he said.

 _Or you could stay._

But even as I opened my mouth to speak, I held my tongue, holding back the words that were in my heart.

Because I couldn't bear to hear him say no to me again, I really couldn't. He would completely break my heart.

So instead, I said, "Okay," and walked with him towards the door. "Will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, stupidly.

"Oh, definitely," he replied, and the smirk that found his lips gave me the tinest bit of hope.

Like maybe he wouldn't break my heart after all.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	15. Chapter 15

Hi! OKAY, warning... Unneccesarily long author's note ahead!

First of all, THANK YOU for all of your kind reviews and PMs while I have been away from this story. I almost posted a chapter like 10 times to let you know I was still here, but I didn't want to disappoint you all when you realized it was just an Author's note!

Second of all, I have missed writing SO MUCH! I am finally done the 7 weeks of 6-night-a-week night float HELL. Literally, all I did was work, sleep, work, sleep, work, sleep. I didn't even eat a single meal in my apartment, I just ate breakfast (at 5 pm), lunch (at 2 am), and dinner (at 5 am) at the hospital. But I AM BACK to a REGULAR schedule and it's AMAZING. YAY! Side note, I really shouldn't complain because I love my job and I deliver babies for a living, but still. It's EXHAUSTING.

Third of all, I am so pumped because I have written this chapter, written half the next chapter, and outlined a third! I think you're all going to like it. This one ends kind of abruptly, but it's just because this chapter and the next one combined would have been too long so I separated them. But stay tuned, because I'll have the next one posted soon.

Fourth, I am currently re-reading Nothing to Fear because it has been a while and I promise to update that one soon too :) Woooooo

Okay, I think that's all the comments I have. Except wait, can we talk about how AMAZING last weeks episode was? I think it may have been the best ever. I read a comment somewhere that someone said Erin being gone is allowing Jay to become the main character and it's kind of nice to see him grow as a character/actor, and I couldn't help but agree (even if I do miss Erin). I mean, last week was just so fantastic.

Okay, sorry, end of rant! I think I just missed telling you all all my thoughts lol Damn night float! Please drop a review if you are still interested in reading this story. I know it's been a while :)

HAPPY READING!

 **Chapter 15,**

 **Erin POV**

It's been thirty days.

It's been thirty days since Jay came into work for the first time.

We've paired back up as partners since then, and to be honest, it's been surprisingly seamless. It was like putting on an old pair of sweatpants that you found at the bottom of your drawer, that you completely forgot were there, but the minute you put them on, you can't imagine how you ever went without wearing them. I stepped into the drivers seat, with him as my co-pilot, and it was like riding a bike.

It's been thirty days since Jay came over to our house for dinner for the first time, and that, too, has become surprisingly routine. Every day, Jay leaves work and picks up Jacob from daycare, before meeting me back at my apartment for dinner. He even went out and bought a carseat for his car so he could stop borrowing mine.

It's been thirty days of Jay and I reading the book "Love you, forever," to Jacob. Thirty days of Jacob falling asleep between us in the darkness of his room in the middle of the book, thirty days of me continuing to read over his sleeping body just to soak up the last few moments of family time. Because every night, for the last thirty days, after we put Jacob to bed, Jay stands up from the bed and walks directly to retrieve his coat. Then he walks out the door.

It's been thirty days since the last time I kissed Jay Halstead.

It's been thirty days since I asked him to come home, and he said no.

"Morning," I was suddenly pulled from my thoughts as I hear the sound of footsteps coming towards the kitchen. A few things _had_ changed in the last thirty days, one of which was that I gave Jay a key. Originally, I had given it to him because I had a doctor's appointment and he was going to beat me home, but at some point, he had just gotten in the habit of using it, even when I was home.

"Good morning," I replied easily, but I didn't turn around to face him. For some reason, every time he walked into my kitchen holding two cups of coffee from the Starbucks down the street, it always struck me as sad.

When we were married, we used to drink our coffee together every morning, before starting our day. Jay would set the Cuisinart coffee maker the night before, and we would both wake to the smell of the fresh coffee brewing. When he died, or well, when I _thought_ he had died, I hadn't stopped that tradition. Waking up to that familiar smell, before I opened my eyes, I could almost convince myself that everything was _normal._ That when I opened my eyes, Jay would be right there next to me, ready to start his day with a full mug.

After a few months, though, I started brewing half the amount. It felt wasteful, throwing away his portion day after day. And then, one day, Paul had bought me a Nespresso machine as a gift, and he began brewing that for me in the morning. And then all too quickly, my tradition was gone.

It hadn't struck me as that sad at the time, though. To be honest, it was all just a part of moving on. I may still have slept on Jay's pillow, but the coffee thing, I realized I had to let that part go. It was all in the hopes of acheiving some sort of healthy balance.

But now? Well for some reason, now, it struck me as incredibly sad. Jay walking in with two cups of store bought coffee... It was just another reminder of the things I'd lost. The things that would never be the same.

Even if Jay was back in my life, it was still different. We weren't drinking the coffee he brewed, because we weren't waking up together, because he wasn't here the night before to brew it.

Because every night, after finishing the story, he left to go to a different home.

"Where's my favorite little man?" He asked, as he slid the coffee towards me. I busied at the stove making eggs for all of us, hoping he wouldn't notice the way I was avoiding his gaze.

"He's in his room," I said, finally gathering up my strength and turning to face him. _God_ , I thought, as my eyes roamed over him. _It's unbelievable that he still has this effect on me._

It's just that he's _so_ sexy. The lines of his face may be a few years older than I remembered when he left, but for some reason, the crinkle around his deep blue eyes just made me want him more.

Sometimes I craved his touch so desperately, I swear, I almost reached out and laid my hand on his bicep.

But like every other time I had that impulse, I forced myself to stop. Because there was still the small fact to consider, the fact that he didn't seem to want me at all.

"He has something to show you actually," I said, trying to clear my head of the downward spiral my thoughts were taking. It was becoming harder and harder for me to control them. Thirty days is a long time. It had been thirty days of spending every day like a family, like the family I _desperately_ want us to be, but with no relationship between us to speak of.

"Really?" His eyes seemed to brighten, and I was rewarded with my first Halstead grin of the day. Well, actually, the second one, if you count the one Jacob had given me that morning before displaying the railroad track he had built so proudly.

"Really," I replied, unable to contain my own smile at the sight of his. "He's been working on it all morning," I turned back to flip the eggs, suddenly realizing they were still on the stove. "Head back and see," I said, "Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."

He didn't even answer before running out the door in search of Jacob, and the smile stayed on my lips.

As much as this thirty days has been completely filled with longing, and doubt, and sexual tension, it has also been filled with love.

A father's love, a son's love... God, there really was nothing better. Watching Jay and Jacob grow into their roles as father and son, watching them fall in love with being a family, it has made these last thirty days the best of my life.

So really, I shouldn't be complaining.

 _That,_ I thought, as I lifted the paper cup to my lips, _and at least the coffees good._

 **Jay's POV**

"This is amazing, buddy." As I sat down on the light grey carpet in Jacob's room and stared in awe at his _very_ complicated railroad set up, I finally felt myself start to relax. "Seriously, wow! I can't believe you did all this yourself."

"Mommy didn't even help!" He said excitely, running around each corner of the track, pointing and showoing me each individual piece he used.

I didn't mind at all. Actually, I _really_ needed this.

I was feeling wired. This morning had started off _particularly_ strangely. And not in a good way.

I had woken up in a cold sweat, my sheets completely drenched, with my comforter strewn haphazardly on the floor.

That was nothing new, though. I had spent the last thirty days having nightmare after nightmare. Each nightmare was different - some being from my early days as a Ranger, whereas others were from the last three years underground - but each morning was the same.

Each morning, I woke up and showered, trying to wash the memories from my mind as I washed the grime from my skin. Then, I would slip on my clothes and dress for the day.

I got up extra early every morning, for several reasons. The first reason was really just because my body wouldn't allow me to sleep past 6 am. It had been something ingrained in me in my early days in the military, and while Erin had knocked it out of me when we first married, these days it seemed to be back with a vengeance.

The second reason was because I liked to stop and pick up coffee every morning for Erin before I stopped off at her apartment. It seemed the least I could do, since she let me intrude on her time and come and eat breakfast with her and Jacob every morning. The breakfast that _she_ cooked - still weird.

Then there was the third, and most important reason, which was that I _really_ liked to try and avoid Voight outside of work.

Usually I succeeded in that last part, sneaking out before the sun was up and he had descended down his stairs for the day. But this morning, I hadn't been able to escape early enough.

"Halstead," his gruff voice startled me as I walked into the kitchen. The sun had barely risen over the horizon, so the small kitchen lamp was the primary source of lgiht.

"Voight," I nodded in response.

It's funny. When Erin and I were first dating, I had always called him 'sir' or 'boss' when I was in his home. It took him _weeks_ of prompting me before I finally called him Hank.

But lately, _Voight_ is the best I can do. I just can't seem to get back there.

There's a lot of things I can't seem to get back to.

"Sit down," he barked the phrase out like an order, and even though we weren't at work, I immediately obeyed. I moved quickly across the kitchen until I came upon the table, where I sat across from him, trying very hard to hold his gaze.

It wasn't easy though. It hadn't been easy lately.

Every time I looked into his eyes, every time I looked into _anyone's_ eyes, I could _sense_ the hope there, immediately followed by the crushing disappointment.

Well, everyone but Jacob. Which is what made visiting him the brightest part of my day.

"What's up, boss," I said, trying to keep my voice steady and calm. Another feat that was proving to not be very easy today.

"When are you going to tell Erin." Straight. To the point. The Hank Voight we all know and love. And by love, I mean fear.

"Tell her what?" I asked, playing dumb. I knew _exactly_ what he was asking about. Just like I knew that my stalling tactic wouldn't work on him.

Sure enough, he continued his probing, completely stone faced. "When are you going to tell Erin the real reason you refuse to go home?"

 _Home._

I chose to focus on that part of his statement, because it was easier than focusing on the rest of it. "Home?" I replied, and I could hear an edge to my voice that I hadn't particularly intended to be there. "I don't have a _home._ " I said, and this time the anger in my voice was perfectly intended.

Because really, I didn't. I didn't have a home _._ Every time I walked into Erin's apartment, evey time I sat on Jacob's bed, I noticed another thing that I hadn't noticed before.

Like the night before when I noticed the Winnie the Pooh night light in the hallway that evidently Erin had put up because Jacob had started walking into her room in the middle of the night.

Or like the pantry door in the kitchen that I opened last week and saw measurements of Jacob's heights at different ages.

Or like the pictures that were hung on every wall. Pictures of Jacob, and Erin, and Hank, and the rest of our team...

It was evidence of a whole life. A _full_ life. One that I had missed.

So, no, it didn't exactly feel like _my_ home.

"Jay," Voight tried to soften his voice, and I could tell he felt bad for phrasing it just that way. But I could also tell he wasn't going to let me off that easily. "She deserves to know."

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to regain some of the composure I had lost. Without opening them, I whispered, "You don't think I know that." This time my voice was quiet. Hushed. Defeated.

"Jay, listen," he said, trying again, and I opened my eyes to face him. "You saw Erin through a lot. You dug her out of holes so deep that I couldn't even begin to reach her." I could feel the tears beginning to well behind my gaze, but I couldn't bring myself to look away. "You carried her through some of the hardest times." He paused, "You," he said, louder this time. "You did that."

He reached for my shoulder in a fatherly gesture, one reminiscent of the way he used to. _Before_. "Let her do that for you," he finished.

 _Let her do that for you._

 _Let her do that for you._

His words resonated with me as I got in my car. They resonated with me as I stood in line at the coffee shop, as I drove downtown and parked my car in the lot, as I let myself into her apartment.

I couldn't get his words out of my head.

 _Let her do that for you._

Could it really be that easy? Could I just tell her? Could I just let her in? Could that be the first step to going back to normal?

The thoughts wouldn't stop bouncing around my head, so much so it was beginning to make me feel lightheaded and dizzy with nerves and anticipation. And _hope._

But then, I walked down the hallway and into the kitchen, the kitchen that was becoming familiar to me now, and slid the medium coffee across the counter, and I realized that Erin could barely look at me. And when she _did_ finally look at me, her face was full of that look that was also becoming familiar to me now... resounding disappointment.

It was only there for a flash before she changed the subject and brought up Jacob, but I didn't miss it.

And it didn't break my heart any less.

So, instead of telling her, instead of listening to Hank and letting her in, I walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway, eager to avoid reality just a little while longer.

Because really, the only thing that could get me out of my own head was the sound of Jacob's excited voice, his beautiful laughter, and the amazing railroad set he built.

His bright smile, half mine, half Erin's... well, it was exactly what I needed.

 **Erin's POV**

Jay's being even weirder than usual.

He seemed a tiny bit off this morning at breakfast, but with Jacob as a buffer between us, it was so tiny that I was able to convince myself it was all in my head.

But then we got to work and he stayed in the locker room longer than usual, and instead of meeting me for a second cup of coffee in breakroom, he darted straight for his desk.

Then, when we had a bust to dress for, he didn't even helped me get my vest on.

I mean, if there was _anything_ I could count on in the past thirty days, it was the shiver that would run up my spine as he helped me put my vest on. It was pretty much the only contact we had, and we both seemed to revel in it.

It was the only part of the day that made me feel like maybe, just _maybe_ my feelings weren't one-sided.

But, who knows. Maybe they were. Maybe the electricity in those moments was really all in my head, because today, he stood on the opposite side of the room while I draped my gear over my body myself, and then we drove completely _silently_ in the car.

The day seemed to stretch on for hours, and it was barely even time for lunch.

"Erin," his voice brought me out of my own head, and I looked up from my computer to face him. He was standing in front of my desk looking at my expectantly.

"What's up?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual and nonchalant. I tried to keep my _face_ casual and nonchalant, even as I could feel my heart sinking. I _hated_ when he called me Erin. He had been calling me that so much lately, and every time, it was like a reminder that all of our old nicknames, all those endearing terms, were just another thing of the past.

"I can't pick up Jacob today," he said, and before I could even open my mouth to ask why, he continued. "I have an appointment with Paul."

"Oh," I answered. "Is everything okay?" I couldn't help the concern that seeped into my voice, even as I tried to keep it calm and steady.

"Everything's fine," he replied easily. "Just a follow up."

"Okay," I replied, nodding.

 _Are you coming over for dinner?_ I wanted to ask him, but I didn't want to come off as needy.

"I shouldn't be too late, though," he added. "For dinner."

I couldn't help the smile that snuck across my face. "Sounds good."

 **Jay's POV**

"So," Paul finished examining my leg and began moving towards my arm. "How have you been feeling with the cast off?"

He had finally removed the cast from my leg at my appointment last week. "The first night was awful," I said, remembering how the pain had been more excruciating then anything I could have imagined. I hadn't been able to sleep a wink. Although, it had been a welcome respite from the nightmares.

"I warned you it would be," he said, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he began bending my arm at the elbow and testing my range of motion. "After an entire month of not using your muscles, they atrophy. Walking a flight of stairs is like doing a thousand workouts at once."

"You did," I said, smiling at him, as he finally moved to sit at his rolling stool. "I just didn't believe you." After all I had been through, I figured it wouldn't be that bad.

"Fair enough," he replied, as if reading my mind. "Is it better now?"

"Much," I replied, relief clear in my voice.

"Good," he said, as he turned to type a few things in the computer. Then, he exited out of the electronic medical record application and turned towards me. "So how are you, _really?_ "

Here's the thing about Paul. After I got past the whole sleeping-with-my-wife-kind-of-parenting-my-kid thing, I realized that he is actually pretty great. During my first follow up visit when we were finally alone, I found myself feeling awkward, knowing that Erin had pushed him out of her life to make room for me, even though I clearly wasn't ready to be any kind of husband to her.

But then he told me about how he had lost his wife. How he would _never_ have stood in the way of mine and Erin's reuniting, no matter how long it took.

And something in his voice, in his _eyes_ , had me believeing him. And ever since then, we've actually become kind of like friends.

"I'm..." I trailed off, unable to voice the lie that had been on the tip of my tongue. "Ugh." I closed my eyes, giving in. "I don't know how I am."

He just chuckled again, and it went a long way to lighten the mood. "Want to get some coffee and talk about it?" He said, consulting his watch. "I have a half an hour before my next appointment."

"Yeah," I said, not even surprised anymore. He wasn't just a friend. He was becoming a confidant. "I really do."

Ten minutes later, we were seated at the Starbucks down the hall from the hospital. I had offered to stay in the cafeteria, knowing that he had to be back soon and would be pressed for time, but I think he wanted to get out of the hospital. He seems to love to operate, but the days where he had to see patient's in the office seemed to drag for him.

"What's going on?" He said. He's been able to read me surprisingly well. I wonder if it's a doctor thing, or a Paul thing. I wonder if it's what Erin liked about it. Or likes? I never know if I should use past or present tense with them.

Just like I never know if I should use like or _love._

Better not to think about _that_.

Instead, I pushed it out of my mind. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do," he replied, easily.

 _Yeah, I do._

"Is it the nightmares?" He asked, cautiously. "Because I told you two weeks ago, I am always happy to talk to you about them, but it's not really my area. I can still set you up with Dr. Charles."

I had finally told Paul about my nightmares two weeks ago, at somewhere around my fifth appointment. He had commented on my blood shot eyes, and told me if he was going to clear me to go back to work, I needed to be straight with him.

And it had felt good finally letting it out. "Kind of," I replied. Talking to Paul is like talking to stranger and a friend all at once. It's like he doesn't know me at all, but at the same time, I don't have to explain anything to him. He knows all the players in my life. "Hank wants me to tell Erin."

"I agree." See. No explanation needed.

"You do?" I asked, surprised.

"Don't you think it will help?"

 _Yes,_ I immediately realized.

 _But the question is_ who _will I be helping?_ It was the response I wanted to say to Hank, but for some reason hadn't found it in myself to articulate.

I couldn't find it in myself to say it now, either. Instead I just shrugged, "I don't know."

"Listen," he said, taking another cautious sip of his hot coffee. "Erin is the strongest person I know." He gently placed his cup back on the table, all the while holding my gaze. "She can handle it. She can handle _anything,_ " he emphasized the last word, as if I didn't already know that.

"She's been through a lot," he continued. "And she can get through this."

 _She's been through a lot._

 _She can get through this._

"She can." I replied, because it was _completely_ true. "But the thing is," I continued. "She shouldn't have to."

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	16. Chapter 16

Thank you all so much for the amazing reviews on the last chapter! Y'all are seriously the best. It made my day getting all those reviews. I forgot how much I missed having those emails pop up in my inbox all day while I'm at work :) Which is why I woke up this morning extra early to study... and instead am submitting a new chapter lol.

This chapter is a bit shorter, because it was really meant to be part 2 of the last chapter. And I know you got two chapters really close together, but I'm on call this weekend and then I have a wedding so it'll be next week before I get another one out :( Sorry! But I will try to keep you all more informed of my time line !

Happy reading :)

 **Erin's POV**

You know, I read this book once.

It was about a girl whole woke up after a car accident, and had completely lost three years of her life. In an instant, it was gone.

It was called _Remember Me?_

It was recommended to me by Burgess, who clearly knew it wasn't my taste in books, but she had thought it might be a nice 'light' read for me. This was, of course, back when I was obsessively reading book after book on grief.

So despite myself, I went out and bought it. And then, I completely devoured it in three days.

It was nice being out of my own head, reading about someone else's ridiculous problems. And at times, it was laugh out loud funny. I laughed so hard that tears sprang to my eyes, and for once they weren't _sad_ tears. It had been pretty nice, actually.

That book has been sitting on my bedroom shelf, and even though I must've walked past it a thousand times, I haven't thought about that book in years. But for some reason, as I found myself cooking dinner while Jacob was in the living room playing, both of us eagerly waiting for Jay to get home, I found myself thinking about that book.

The girl was 28. She had gone to sleep one night at 25 years old, and woke up in a hospital the next day and she was 28.

In the blink of an eye, those years were gone.

She remembered her mother and her sister. She remembered the majority of her friends. And for the most part, she remembered her job.

But that three year gap had left her with a large hole, and deep in that hole laid the most significant of memories: her husband.

She had _completely_ forgotten her husband.

She didn't remember meeting him. She didn't remember what attracted her to him, what compelled her to go out with him on that first date. She didn't remember their first date, or their second, or their third. She didn't remember falling in love with him. She didn't remember the vows they exchanged at their wedding. She didn't remember planning their honeymoon, or designing their first apartment. She didn't remember any of it.

Some days... today, especially, I envy that girl.

Because for me, well, I remember _all_ of it.

I remember the time I first laid eyes on Jay Halstead across the bullpen. I remember _exactly_ what he was wearing. I remember the way my heart _literally_ skipped a beat the first time he smiled in my direction. I remember staring into his eyes, thinking I could lose myself forever in them.

I remember the witty banter, and the sexual tension. I remember the days full of longing, when we were trying to navigate being partners. I remember the day I decided to reveal my past to him, letting him further in than I had ever let anyone, despite knowing we could never _be_ together.

Then, I remember the day we finally decided to be together. I remember all the struggles, and the offs and ons that came after it.

And I remember the day he brought me back to my life, to my work. I remember the way he never gave up on me, the way he followed me into the darkness and pulled me out.

I remember the day Hank gave us his blessing.

I remember the day Jay moved in with me, in that first apartment that we shared together. I remember the day he said I love you.

And I remember the day he bent down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I remember being so surprised, so speechless, so happy. I felt so _complete._

I said yes before he could even finish the question.

I remember that I stressed over buying the perfect dress, something I had _never_ stressed over in my life. And I remember how none of it mattered when I saw him standing at the top of that aisle, smiling at me. I remember the butterflies that were present in my stomach when I walked down the aisle towards him, with Hank on my arm.

I remember kissing him there, in front of all our friends and family.

I remember honeymooning in Costa Rica. I remember getting sick on the side of the boat when we tried to go scuba diving, but the motion sickness had become too much for me to bear. I remember him holding my hair and carressing my back as I curled into him, exhausted, sick, but deliriously happy and content.

I remember the day we decided we wanted to move out of our apartment. I remember how nervous I was at first, leaving the first real home I had on my own. But then we found our house, and I remember the way he carried me over the threshold, and I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Then, I remember how we made love in every single room.

I remember every moment like it was yesterday.

And I'm pretty sure he does, too. Because neither of us lost our memory like that girl in the book.

We just somehow managed to lose each other anyway.

Because for some reason that I cannot begin to explain, we can't seem to get back there. And it doesn't matter how much I try.

"Hey," I startled at the sound of my name. I had been so lost in thought, I hadn't even heard Jay come in. Once again, I was in the kitchen. This time I had cooked dinner in the oven, and didn't have the stove to stare at to avoid his gaze.

I turned to look at him, and he looked even more stand-offish than he had at work. _What is going on with you?_ I wanted to ask him. But, of course, I didn't. "Hey," I said back, matching his casual tone.

"Where's Jacob?"

I swear, if there was no Jacob, we would never see each other. We would never have a conversation. Jacob was the only thing holding us together, even if it was only by a tiny thread.

"He's in the living room," I said, moving towards him and trying desparately to find something to do with my hands. "I told him he could watch one episode of Winnie the Pooh before dinner." It was quite the treat because I rarely _ever_ let him watch TV. The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends no screen time under the age of two, after all.

I don't know when I became one of _those_ parents. "Dinner will be ready in a second though," I continued. "Want to grab him and meet me at the table?" I gestured towards the living room, hoping he would agree. I just needed a little more _space._

He regarded me warily, as if he could tell I was feeling uncomfortable, but then he quietly moved towards the living room. In the last thirty days, we really _had_ melted into a routine. And so it was pretty unusual for me to be _so_ uncomfortable around him.

But then, he was being weird, too.

And I don't know. Something in me was just starting to snap.

I don't want to _do_ this anymore. I don't want to be _this_ person.

I don't want to be awkward, and uncomfortable, and _sad._ I don't want to be daydreaming about losing my memory, just so it wouldn't hurt _this_ much.

I want my husband back. I want to be _married_ , and in love. I want my _family_.

And I am tired of waiting. Thirty days is just too long.

We somehow made it through dinner, albeit somewhat uncomfortably. I made an excuse to avoid bath time, even though I knew immediately that Jay would be able to sense something was off. I _never_ avoid bath time. It's become one of my favorite things. Even Jacob, who used to _hate_ taking baths, has started to beg to stay in longer. He loves splashing around, with both of his parents laughing and playing with him.

It was after we put Jacob to sleep, and once again, Jay moved towards the door. I followed him this time, even though I had gotten out of the habit a few weeks ago.

Watching him walk away out the door was something I could honestly do without seeing night after night. So I usually busied myself in the kitchen, or cleaning up Jacob's toys in the living room. But tonight, I couldn't help it.

What _was it_ about tonight?

Maybe it was because he had avoided me all day at work, and he had acted even more strange thoughout dinner, and I just _needed_ to know why.

Or maybe it was because tonight marked thirty days. Thirty days of going without kissing him. Thirty days without touching him the way I _needed_ to touch him.

Thirty days of hurt, and sadness, and just not understanding what the hell was going on.

 _I just want my husband back._

"Jay," I said, my voice quiet and tentative.

I'm not sure he heard me. "Jay," I repeated, a little more urgently. _Why_ was I doing this to myself.

He must have heard me that time, because he stopped with his jacket halfway up his sleeve and turned to face me. All at once though, I lost the courage to say anything.

So instead, we just stood there for a while, just staring at each other.

After several moments, he slowly began to slide his jacket even further up his arm, and suddenly, I was desperate for the night _not_ to end like this.

His name came from my lips again, this time like a sob. "Jay."

 **Jay's POV**

Tonight, I had moved rather quickly to the door, desparate to not be in this day any longer. This day that had me hoping and wishing that maybe I could tell Erin everything, and then realizing with crushing disappointment that I couldn't. This day that had me realizing that instead of Erin and I growing more and more comfortable together as I had initially thought, it was seemingly the opposite. She seemed to be growing more _un_ comfortable with each passing moment.

And she _never_ followed me to the door anymore.

But tonight, she followed me. She watched me walk out. And at the sound of her broken voice, at the sight of her broken face, something broke in me.

My will to keep her away from me, to _protect_ her from me, seemed to fall to the ground, because against my better judgmement, I dropped my coat to the ground and _lunged_ for her.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was pressed against her, pinning her between myself and the wall. Her body was so unbelievably warm against mine, it almost felt like a dream.

Then my lips were on hers, and I realized this _was_ a dream. This was _my_ dream. It was the dream I had dreamt every single night when I had been away from her.

God, I had never wanted to wake up.

"Er," I whispered, my lips left hers for just enough time to whisper her name, and then they were molded against hers again.

I could feel her lips part in surprise. I could feel her tentativeness.

And then I could feel the moment she finally allowed herself to kiss me, to melt into me, to completely lose herself in me.

That moment of surrender, that moment when her body pressed against mine like it was the only thing that mattered in the world to her, well... I think it may go down in history as the best moment of my life.

Along with every moment that followed.

She shifted her body slightly, and I lifted her up until her legs were wrapped around mine. And then, as she tightened her legs around me, I carried her in my arms her bedroom.

As I moved down the dark hallway, she pressed open mouth kisses from my jaw, down my neck, to the open space above my collar bone. By the time I reached her bed, she was already tearing at my shirt, as if she _needed_ to touch my skin.

I needed to touch hers, too. Staying away from her had been _torture._ Every time I helped her put on her vest, every time my fingers brushed against her neck, her hair, I thought of doing this. I thought or holding her against me, smelling the vanilla of her hair, tasting the sweetness of her skin.

And as I laid her down on the bed, I nearly lost my breath.

Every dream I had had, every time I had imagined this moment... well, it didin't do it justice. It didn't do _her_ justice.

God, she was so fucking beautiful to me.

"Er," I whispered again, enjoying the way her nickname felt on my tongue. I had missed calling her that.

Her eyes were bright with arousal, and her lips were red and flushed from her kisses. But her eyes were full of love.

We undressed each other quickly then, both frantic in our need to _finally_ feel each others skin, to finally have nothing between us.

Her roaming fingers found my arms, my shoulders, my chest. Her touch lit a fire in me, and I could barely maintain control as I kissed my way down her body.

But then my lips found hers again, and my fingers found her wet and waiting for me. I slid them inside, basking in the feel of her wamth on my hand. She was panting beneath me, but her lips never left mine.

I slowly entered her, then, and we began to move against each other. After a few moments she finally pulled her lips away from my own, but only so she could say my name. And with my name on her tongue, I lost control completely.

We laid there for several moments, and I found myself unable to speak. I couldn't find words to describe what I was feeling in that moment.

Three years of being away from her... I could never in a million years verbalize all that I had missed.

After a long time, she finally spoke. "Wow," she said, her breath ragged. But then she rolled away of me.

"Yeah," I answered, surprised at the loss of contact. She used to curl into me after we had sex, and it was as if our skin was glued together.

I couldn't help the disappointment that came over me. But then, I guess I pushed her so far away, I shouldn't be surprised. "Come here," I said, trying to close the gap.

It was as if I had given her the permission she needed, because at the sound of my words, she immediately turned and curled into me, and I could feel her melt her body into mine. Maybe even tighter than she ever had before.

It really was better than my dreams.

 _I love you_.

 _I love you._

The words were on the tip of my tongue even as her breathing relaxed, even as she fell asleep against me.

And even though I meant those words, I meant those will all my heart, and this was _exactly_ where I wanted to be, right here, for the rest of my life...

Something held me back from saying them.

And something had me slipping out from underneath her, sneaking out of her bed, and leaving her sleeping peacefully under the warm blankets.

That something was Hank's voice.

 _You saw Erin through a lot._

That something was Paul's voice.

 _She's been through so much._

They were right. She _had_ been through a lot.

And she didn't need me to put her through any more.

 **Erin's POV**

I fell asleep in Jay's arms. I fell asleep wrapped in his warm embrace, feeling more loved, more safe, more _happy,_ than I have in a long time.

But then I woke up in an empty bed.

I woke up alone, feeling more broken than I have ever felt before.

 **xoxo**

 **Please review!**

 **Also, SORRY! I know that was a mean ending. But I PROMISE that this is the breaking point where things are finally going to turn around :) You'll see!**


	17. Chapter 17

Guys! I'm SUCH a procrastinater. I'm supposed to be studying in Starbucks, but instead I wrote this chapter! But at least the coffee is delicious! LOL! My test is in two days... OH WELL! It's your fault, I just love getting your reviews! And really, I had to resolve the cliffhanger before the weekend lol. Hope you enjoy this one :)

 **Chapter 17,**

 **Erin's POV**

All at once, the sadness and loneliness gave way to rage.

What. The. _Fuck._

 _You have got to be fucking kidding me,_ I thought, as I threw the covers off my bed in anger. An immediate chill ran over me, and when I looked down I realized I wasn't wearing any clothes.

My clothes, of course, had been torn off, and were likely lying haphazardly in a trail from my front door to my bedroom. We hadn't exactly been taking our time, both of us clearly feeling the urgency, the rush to feel each other's skin.

Jay's clothes _had_ been laying right next to mine last night, but as I slowly stood from my bed, I noticed his clothes had disappeared without a trace.

Kind of like him.

I shrugged on an old t-shirt, one that actually belonged to Jay _pre_ all of this craziness, that I originally hadn't been able to bring myself to give away. Unlike the t-shirt he had been wearing tonight, it had long since lost his smell, and it smelled more of laundry detergent than anything else.

I inhaled the soft scent just the same as I slid it over my head before moving towards the door of my bedroom. Then, I went in search for my phone. In all the rushed and _frantic_ moves of the night before, I must have left it in the kitchen or the living room.

As I moved down the hallway, I spotted my bra flung across the floor. At the sight of the dark purple lace, I finally allowed my mind to drift to the night before. To the way it had been fast and crazed, but also slow and lovely. How it had been full of lust and passion, but also full of tenderness and love.

 _Stop,_ I ordered myself, shaking my head and forcing my mind rid of those thoughts.

Instead, I forced myself to translate all of my thoughts and feelings into anger. Because I really _was_ angry, and because quite honestly, allowing those feelings to become anything else would be too damn hard.

I finally found my phone wedged between two cushions in the couch, and turned on the screen. A photo of Jacob's smile illuminated and stared back at me. The harshness of the light against the darkness of the room had my eyes squinting, but I stared at the picture just the same.

Usually, the freckles that danced across his face, the way his blue eyes sparkled when he smiled, the way his dimples completely matched my own, really just his face in general, would allow my nerves and anger to dissipate.

But not tonight.

Instead, it just reminded me that Jay hadn't just left me. He had left _both_ of us.

I pressed my finger on the small white button, but with the clamminess of my fingers, it took several tries for the home screen to illuminate and for my phone to come to life. I clicked onto the green icon to find my favorites, and within seconds I was dialing one of the numbers at the top of my list.

It may be 3 in the morning, but I knew she wouldn't care. After all these years, she had become my rock.

And this wasn't the first time I had called in a favor at this hour.

"Erin?" Came a concerned voice over the phone. "Erin, what's wrong?"

"Kim, can you come over?" I said, without preamble. I was already moving back towards my bedroom, picking up the discarded pieces of clothing, ready to put them on again. This time, though, I didn't think about the implications of where they laid on the floor. I just picked them up and kept moving.

"Of course," she replied, and I could tell she was already jumping out of her bed. God, she really was the best friend. "Is everything okay with Jacob?"

"Yes, I'm sorry," I apoloized, realizing that a 3 am phone call would obviously worry her. Last time I called in the middle of the night, it had been when Jacob had a 103 fever, and Hank hadn't been answering. She had met me at the hospital for moral support, and she had sat with me while Will and Natalie evaluated him in the emergency department. "Yes, everything is fine with Jacob. I just need to you come over and watch him for me, I need to go somewhere."

"Okay," she replied, no further questions needed. If Jacob was okay, she didn't need anymore information from me. "I'll be there in fifteen."

Fifteen minutes later, I was fully dressed and pacing across my apartment when there was a quiet knock at the door.

I was still seething. _None_ of my anger had dissapated as I walked down the hallway to open it the front door.

But then some of it dissolved when I saw Kim, her hair tied in a knot on top of her head, her plaid pajama pants stuffed into a pair of tan Ugg boots. She had barely even gotten dressed before she ran over.

Suddenly, the look of her worried face had tears streaming down my own.

She reached for me, pulling me in for a hug, and stroking a consoling hand up and down my back. "What's wrong, Erin?" She asked, softly. "What can I do?"

I leaned back and tried to give her a convincing smile. I knew I wasn't doing a good job, but at least my voice was steady when I finally answered. "You can stay here with Jacob while I go get his father back."

xx

With Kim likely already fast asleep in my bed, I pulled into Hank's driveway.

I know I should have called first, or at the very least knocked instead of using my key, but honestly, I couldn't be bothered.

 _Enough was enough._

And there was a _very_ low likelihood that Hank would _actually_ shoot me. Tonight, I was willing to take my chances.

I turned the key quietly, and softly opened the door. I tiptoed, taking two tiny steps before turning and closing the front door softly behind me.

It was nearly pitch black in the house, and I had to stop to allow my eyes to adjust. But as I was waiting there, at the bottom of the stairs, I began to hear a strange noise.

It was coming from upstairs, and it sounded muffled.

I walked closer to the stairs, but the noises seemed to have gone away.

 _It must have been my imagination,_ I thought, as I began to ascend the stairs.

I made it halfway up before I heard the noises again. But this time, they weren't muffled.

 _"Erin."_

It was Jay. He was shouting my name.

But instead of sounding like he knew I was on the stairs and he was calling for me, it sounded...

" _ERIN!"_

He sounded...

 _"No, don't take her from me! ERIN!"_

Scared.

 _"Erin! I'm coming!"_

I began racing up the stairs, and within seconds, I was standing in the doorway of my childhood bedroom, the one Jay was currently inhabiting.

My eyes widened with shock as I took in the sight before me. He was drenched in sweat, the blankets were on the floor. His eyes were closed, and he was _whimpering_ in fear.

My Ranger, turned detective, turned Ranger, turned detective again - my resilient, _strong_ husband was whimpering in fear.

" _Erin, erin, erin!"_ He kept repeating my name over and over again, crying out like reaching me was the only thing that would ever bring him peace.

But then almost as quickly as the screaming started, he stopped calling my name. He was silent for a few seconds before letting out a terrifying sound. A sound that didn't sound like it was coming from the Jay I knew.

A sound that really hadn't even sounded _human._

Immediately, I ran to the bed and wrapped my arms around him. I had to stifle my own tears, but it wasn't easy.

"Jay," I began to whisper, hoping my voice was soothing, and would slowly bring him awake, to the present. "Jay," I tried again.

Nothing.

I wrapped my arms around him then, but his eyes were still closed and I felt completely unsure of what to do next. "It's okay," I said, trying to sooth him with the combination of my words and my slow caresses up and down his arm, across his shoulders, then down his back. "It's okay, Jay."

I'm pretty sure it wasn't working, but I held him anyway. I held him like that as he tossed and turned, as he let out uneven, ragged breaths, as he called out my name once again. His body felt slick against my own, drenching the clothes I had just recently put on, but I didn't care.

"Jay," I tried again. "Jay, it's me," I continued to slide my hand up and down his back. "It's me, Erin."

At the sound of my name, his body seemed to relax a little.

At the sound of my name, his eyes seemed to open.

And all at once, awareness seemed to seep in. "Erin," he said, his eyes widening in alarm. "Erin? What are you doing here?"

Awareness seeped into me, too, at the same time. "This is why you left?" I asked, ignoring his question, my voice shaking in awe. "This is why you've been staying here?" Has this been going on this whole time?

He took a deep breath, and it almost seemed like he wasn't going to answer. But then he finally opened his mouth to speak. "Yes," he sighed, and he look so exhausted, so tormented, so unbelievably defeated in that moment, I wanted to cry for both of us.

 _This_ was why we've been spending all this time apart? _This_ was the reason he allowed me to feel like he didn't want to be with me anymore? Because he didn't want me to see him like this?

I had so many questions.

But this time, I didn't have to voice a single one. "Yes," he answered again, as if reading my thoughts.

Maybe he knew all of my thoughts all along.

 **Jay's POV**

Sometimes, my nightmares are just me reliving old, _terrible_ memories. Sometimes, I'm back in the dungeon, and I never got out. Sometimes, I relieve a day a friend was killed, or a week that I went without water.

But sometimes my nightmares are so bad they take my breath away. Sometimes, the nightmares are pieces of my memories, with things added that make them so _so_ much worse.

This nightmare had been a particularly bad one.

I can only remember pieces of it, but I remember enough. Erin tried to come rescue me from the dungeon. She found me, and she came in, guns blazing.

It's like my mind was confusing the time she had rescued me after her downward spiral and integrating it with my time locked up. But instead of rescuing me, in this dream, one of the guards took her away.

Physically _dragged_ her away was more like it.

Every time I tried to move, it was like I was physically restrained. I had been shouting her name, but every time, my body was transported further and further away, until I couldn't see her anymore.

But then, somehow, I opened my eyes, and she was right in front of me. It was like a dream. It was like one of the best dreams I had ever had in the dungeon. She was whispering my name, and stroking my hair, and somehow, I was in my bed at Hank's.

And somehow, it wasn't a dream. It was real.

"This is why you left?" She asked, and I could tell that understanding was settling in. Even through the residual fuzziness that the nightmare left like a sheet over my brain, I could see her mind working overtime. "This is why you've been staying here?"

"Yes," I whispered back. I wasn't sure if I should be embarrassed, or heartbroken, or _relieved_ that she _finally, finally_ knew.

Her mind was full of questions, and I didn't need to know what they were to know the answers. "Yes," I repeated.

"How long has this been happening?" She whispered, her fingers still roaming over my damp, clammy skin.

How do I even begin to answer that question?

"Three years," I answered, going for the most truthful answer. "Three years," I repeated, but this time, my voice was strained. This time, it came out more like a cry, and I'm pretty sure there were tears leaking from my eyes.

"Three years," I said one more time, because it was true. Because I haven't had a good night sleep in three years. Because I was just so _fucking_ tired.

I was tired of not sleeping.

And I was tired of hiding it. I was tired of hiding it from _her._

"Oh, baby," she responded, shaking her head, as matching tears began to stream down her face. "I'm so sorry."

Her arms wrapped around me even tighter, if that's possible. It was as if she needed her skin to be completely molded against mine, and somehow, it was pretty much exactly what I needed, too. "I'm sorry, too," I replied.

"You should've told me," she whispered, but not in an admonishing way. More like she wished she could have helped.

"I know," I responded, meaning it. With her body against mine, comforting me like this, I'm not sure why I ever kept it from her in the first place.

"Come home with me," she whispered into the darkness.

At the sound of her words, though, my body began to tense up again. "No."

She recoiled and moved her body away from mine. "What?" Her voice was laced with such hurt, and such _surprise_ that I immediately felt the need to explain.

"Jacob," I replied, simply. Because really, that's the only explanation. That's the only answer needed.

"What about Jacob?" Suddenly, she moved her body so that she was sitting in a cross legged position on my bed. It was as if she needed some distance, a respite from my touch, to truly comprehend what I was trying to telling her.

"I grew up in a house where I was scared of my dad," I replied, and at the way her face changed, I knew I hit a nerve. I knew enough about her childhood to know she grew up the exact same way. "I don't want Jacob hearing my nightmares." Hank and I both slept with the door closed, with a long hall and a whole house between us. But I knew he heard my screams. He heard them every. single. night. "I don't want him growing up scared of his dad."

She didn't answer right away, so I took that as my cue to continue. "I need to get some help first," I finally admitted. Maybe I would take up Paul on his offer to set me up with Dr. Charles.

It seemed to take her a long time to process what I was saying, but even then she didn't respond. I kind of knew she wouldn't be able to.

Just like I kind of knew she wouldn't be able to leave me here. I had to do it for her. "Er," I said, placing a meaningful hand on my knee. "Go home to Jacob," I whispered into the darkness, even though the _last_ thing I wanted was for her to go home. "Go home to Jacob, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Tears continued to stream slowly down her face, but she followed my lead as I directed her down the stairs. I held her hand tightly in my own, knowing that if I let go, she may run back up to my room.

After what felt like an eternity of longing, meaninful, silent glances, we finally made it to the door. I held her gaze for another few moments, trying to express everything I was feeling inside into a single look.

When I wasn't sure if that was working, I leaned down to press my lips against hers. The softness of her enveloped me, and I got lost in her for a moment before I forced myself to pull away.

If my look couldn't convey it, if my kiss couldn't convey it, I would have to finally say it aloud.

I would have to say what I had wanted to say since the moment I first saw her in the hospital. What I had wanted to say last night, but had held back.

"I love you," I whispered softly. When tears filled her eyes once again, I reached and swiped them away. "I love you, and I _will_ get help."

I'm not sure who I was trying to convince with my words, though. Her or me.

She continued to be silent as she moved towards the door, as if it's all become too much, and she quite literally can't find the words to respond.

I don't blame her.

Then, with one final, _heartbreaking_ look, she walked out the door. I had to physically force myself to close the door behind her. I have to force myself to not pull her back in; to not run after her myself.

But I didn't do either of those things. I just closed the door, and turned the lock. And then, I was alone again.

Alone in Hank Voight's house.

Without my son. Without my wife.

Alone.

I sighed heavily, and was about to turn back towards the stairs when I was startled by a knock at the door.

I let out the breath I hadn't even realized I was holding, because I knew who it was.

When I opened the door, the heartbreak, the confusion, it was lost from her face. And in their place is that Erin Lindsay determination.

"Jay Halstead," she said, her voice soft, but forceful. "Get in the car." Then, she grabbed my hand. "Come home with me."

 **xoxo**

It finally all came out ! But that's why I had him leave! I wanted her to discover the nightmares on her own! Hope you liked it!


	18. Chapter 18

Hi everyone :) Hope you're all having a fantastic week! My test is over and I finally feel like a real person again! YAY! Hope you enjoy this chapter :)

 **Chapter 18,**

 **Erin's POV**

"Stop."

Jay's voice woke me out of my sleep, and I instinctively moved my body towards him. The room was completely dark with the shades blocking even the moonlight from cascading in.

It took several moments for my eyes to adjust, but even as they did, I wrapped my arms around Jay as he continued to scream out.

"Please, please," he begged, and as he continued to speak, his voice became quieter, more desperate than before.

I stayed beneath the warm blankets and I tightened my hold on him, tracing my fingers up and down his arm. I resisted the urge to wake him, just like I had resisted the urge to wake him every night for the past month since he had moved back home.

Jay had come home with me that night.

I knew he would, because I wasn't planning on leaving that house without him. If I'm being honest, though, I expected to have to _drag_ him by his clothes. But instead, he seemed almost relieved by my declaration. It was as if he had needed someone to just take away his autonomy for a moment, to not allow him to make the decision.

Looking back, I think he had been wavering for weeks, trying to decide if he could tell me or not. He was trying to decide if it would be too much for me to handle. I think he knew I would never run away screaming, it was more that he didn't think I _should_ have to handle it. I think he thought it wasn't my burden to bear.

But that night everything had come to a head. There was no escaping it. A decision had to be made.

Either we needed to move forward together, or give up completely.

I still thank God every day he didn't choose the latter.

"Mouse!" He yelled.

 _Oh._ So tonight, he was reliving something from his first tour.

I had started to pick up on the patterns in his nightmares. The shortest ones, the ones that involved screaming out, but didn't involve thrashing about in the bed, usually involved his first tour. Those nights, he was always calling out to save someone else. Mike. Richie. Mouse. All the men in his unit.

The longer ones, the _louder_ ones, were from his second and final tour. In those dreams, he wasn't trying to save the men from his unit. He was always trying to save himself.

Sweat began to pool at his brow, and I swiped it away, my hands leaving his arm for only a moment before returning to it's rightful place on his bicep. I used my legs to kick the beige comforter further down the bed. With the body heat radiating from Jay, we certainly didn't need it.

"Please," he begged again, and I just closed my eyes, desperately wishing the nighmare would finally end.

Jay had been seeing Dr. Charles three times a week since he moved back in. And once a week, I would go with him.

The times I went with him, though, I could tell he was uncomfortable. He went over his nightmares with Dr. Charles, but for some reason, he still didn't want to go over every minute detail with me. That was okay, though. He was entitled to some privacy, some _dignity_ in all this.

And so we focused on the things that mattered, the things that I needed to know the help the situation. The things I needed to know to help us move forward as a family.

One of the things Dr. Charles had instructed me to do was to let him finish out his nightmares, to allow him to wake on his own. It was quite possibly the hardest thing for me to do, day in and day out, and I couldn't imagine _why_ that would help Jay, but I heeded the word of Dr. Charles. He had gotten me through some pretty situations, and I trusted him implicitly.

"Stop," Jay said, one final time, but there was less conviction in his words this time. And so, I could tell the nightmare was coming to an end. His body was starting to relax against mine, the crinkles around his eyes were disappearing, and the tightness of his jaw was slowly relaxing.

I waited for his breathing to finally even out and then I counted to 100 before waking him.

"Jay," I whispered quietly into his ear. "Jay, wake up."

After a few very gentle shoves, and some caresses across his cheek, his eyes started to open.

I noticed that his eyes no longer widened in surprise when he saw me curled into him, staring down at him with concern in my eyes.

We had finally settled into a routine, and as abstract and uncoventional as it may be, it seemed to work for us.

"Hi," he whispered, and he touched my cheek gently, as if it shove away the concern etched there. "I'm okay," he whispered.

 _I'm okay._

He always said that when he woke up. Every. Single. Time.

The words were becoming so familiar, they had become meaningless.

"I know," I said, though, playing along. Just like I did every night. "I know you are."

He held my gaze for a moment, as if waiting to see my head clear before he spoke again. "Thank you," he whispered into the darkness.

I ignored the sentiment, because really, he didn't _need_ to thank me. This was the reason I was here. For better or worse. Through sickess and health.

I had meant those vows the day I said them, and I meant them even more now.

"So, what do you want to know tonight?" I asked, nuzzling into him in my usual 2 am position.

He turned onto his back, and wrapped his arm around me, allowing me to nuzzle even deeper into the space between his neck and his shoulder. He checked the time on his phone, as if to confirm that we were exactly on schedule, and then he, too, settled in.

"Hmm," he said, and I could feel the warmth of his breath spread above me. Below me, I could feel the regular beating of his heart. "I want to know Jacob's first word."

"No," I responded easily.

"No?" He tilted his head so that he get a look at my face, but from my position on his shoulder, I had to crane my neck so that we were staring at each other.

"Is it some sort of mother-son secret?" He teased, citing the excuse I had used jokingly several times before.

This time, though, I just laughed, and the sound was several octaves louder than our whispered words. "I mean his first word was 'no'!" I smiled at him. "Jacob was almost a year old, and it was our second night in this apartment."

I tilted slightly, and then perched my head on my arm to face him. I did this every night, always getting into the stories and wanting to face him rather than snuggled into him.

Besides, I always had time to do that later.

"I put Jacob in front of the TV so that I could make dinner." I rarely ever let Jacob watch TV, especially at that age. But I had been so exhausted from moving the day before, from trying to unpack his room and make him feel comfortable, that I didn't have the energy to entertain him _and_ make dinner at the same time. And, well, at least I wasn't getting take out.

"And when I was done with cooking, I went to grab him to bring him to the kitchen to eat," I couldn't help the smile that spread across my lips as I told the story. I remembered it so vividly, like it was yesterday. "And when I reached for the remote, and turned off the TV, he shouted _NO!"_ I laughed as I continued, "Like over and over. _No no no no._ "

"I was so excited that he finally said his first word, that I began jumping up and down in exciement," I mused, "Which of course, he took to mean he could watch more TV."

Jay's laugh filled the room with my own, and I revelled the sounds. "How disappointed were you that his first word wasn't Mommy?" He asked, the teasing still present in his voice.

"Not as disappointed that it also wasn't his second," I smiled. "His second word was cookie."

"A boy who knows what he wants," Jay said, laughing.

"I guess so," I shook my head in mock exasperation.

"I think he takes after me in that regard," Jay whispered, and suddenly his voice was husky and seductive. "I know what I want, too."

My breathing hitched, and I stared into his deep blue eyes, saying nothing. It didn't matter how many times he kissed me, it was electric, every single time.

The space between us was so charged and my heart was beating so fast.

"Do you now?" I said, but my voice came out even lower and raspier than Jay's.

"Damn right I do," he said. And then he finally bent down to press his lips against my own, and all I could think as the wave of heat passed through me was _I'm so glad I have my husband back._

 **Jay's POV**

Before, when I was staying with Hank, I had had this idea, deep in the back of my mind, well this _hope_ really, that when I finally did spend the whole night with my wife in my arms, that I would suddenly become nightmare free.

I think maybe I knew that it wasn't realistic, and maybe that's part of the reason I pushed her away for so long... because I just wasn't ready to be proved wrong.

The first night we slept together in her, well _our,_ bedroom, we had prepared for a nightmare. I had warned her that even without the thrashing, Hank was _always, always_ able to hear the sound of my voice down the hall.

And so we shoved a blanket across the crack in the door and we placed a white noise machine in Jacob's room, right next to his big-boy bed. We had done everything possible to limit his exposure, but even as we were going through the motions, I was thinking that it wouldn't really be necessary. I was thinking that sleeping against Erin would surely scare the nightmares away.

Especially considering every nightmare I had seemed to somehow circle back to her being taken from me, or me being taken from her.

Surely, lying wrapped in her arms, her scent would seep into my subconscious, and my body would just instinctively _know_ that that wasn't going to happen.

Except, apparently, it didn't work like that.

That first night, I woke mid-nightmare, with her calling my name. I could tell she was trying to keep her voice soothing, but I could sense the hysteria in her voice.

And so, the next day, I went to see Dr. Charles.

He was the one who had told us that Erin should try to let me stay asleep, so that I could experience the nightmare in it's entirety. It had been his idea to allow Erin to wake me _after_ , and with time, the hysteria in her voice melted away.

It had been her idea, though, a few days later, to allow me to ask her a question.

It had been taking me a really long time to fall back asleep, to relax my body that had been so tensed up by my nightmare. I think she could sense I needed something, _anything_ to take my mind off of it.

And I think she was nervous that if we kept just having sex every time, it wouldn't truly address the issue.

Although, honestly, I hadn't been complaining about that.

But this idea of hers was actually so much better that just physical intimacy alone. I would go to bed knowing that I would have a nightmare, but that I would also wake from it, and I would get to see her beautiful face, and then she would share a secret. I was learning things about her I hadn't even known the first time around. Things about her childhood, her years with Hank and Camille, her dreams, her fears.

And I got to learn about the first two years of my sons life.

But sometimes, hearing those stories in particular broke my heart. It just highlighted all I had missed.

"I wish," I was still panting slightly, naked and sweaty, but this time in the _best_ way. "I had been there for Jacob's first word."

After several long moments of silence, I had given up on her answering. I thought maybe she had fallen asleep, or maybe it was just too hard to think about.

But then, she lifted her head and looked at me with her gorgeous, hazel eyes, and whispered, "I'm just grateful you're here now."

 **Erin POV**

The only problem with this arrangement of ours was that instead of Jacob quietly climbing into my bed in the morning like he usually did, he had to knock on the door.

First, in his tired haze, he would try and shove it open, but then after remembering it was blocked by the blanket, he would knock loudly.

And then he would yell. "DADDY!"

I don't think Jacob will ever tire of having his Daddy be here when he wakes up.

Even so, I always jumped out of bed, hoping I could get him and bring him into bed without waking Jay. Jay was still recovering from his injuries and he was barely sleeping as it was, and to top it off, this week he had been reinstated as a full member of the Intelligence unit. He had been off desk duty for a while, but now he had zero restrictions.

The thought scared the _hell_ out of me. And so, I _really_ wanted Jay to get his sleep.

This morning, though, I didn't manage to sneak him in before he woke Jay.

"Hi, little man," Jay's eyes opened tentatively, but then he squinted against the harsh light. "Get in here." He patted the spot on the bed that Jacob usually inhabited in the morning, the one tucked between the two of us.

Then, he reached his muscular arm over the bed and lifted Jacob weightlessly into bed with him.

"Baby, let daddy sleep a little more," I said, as I got back in on my side of the bed.

"Daddy's awake," Jay said, his voice husky but clear. I loved his voice in the morning.

Jacob just smiled and snuggled into Jay. His curly hair was slightly sweaty from sleep and matted against his face. His racecar pajamas were riding up, revealing a hint of his adorable belly. His tiny arms were wrapped around Jay's shirtless form, and his head was tucked next to his collarbone, just as mine had been.

"Hey," I said, poking Jacob playfully in the belly, causing him to lift his head and turn to face me. "You took my spot!" I pretended to pout, and made an exaggerated sad face.

"Don't cry, mommy," he said, but he was giggling loudly.

"Yeah, don't cry, mommy," Jay repeated, his Halstead grin radiating across the bed. "There's plenty of room for you over here," he gestured for me to come towards them, but then he immediately winked at Jacob.

Oh no, I knew what _that_ meant.

"TICKLES!" Jacob jumped up from his spot on Jay's chest and pounced on top of me. Jay followed, moving his long fingers into my stomach.

"Stop," I cried out, laughing so hard I could barely catch my breath. "Stop!" I yelled again, but there was no conviction in my words. This had become my favorite way to spend a morning.

Eventually, Jay stopped digging his fingers into my belly and took pity on me. He released me, but only for a second, before he grabbed me again. This time, to pull me into him.

"Hmm," he sighed, closing his eyes and nuzzling his nose into Jacob's curls. Then he wrapped his arms around me and Jacob, and I inhaled my two favorite men in the world, their scents mixing together in the best way, and this time the only thing I could think was _I'm so glad I have my family back._

 **Jay's POV**

"Halstead," Voight's voice bellowed through the quiet bullpen and the sound was even more pronounced since it had been a slow day. "My office."

Erin shot me a questioning look, raising her eyebrows in that adorable, slightly concerned way. of hers.

I just shrugged back, having no clue what my boss could want.

I stood from my chair and moved towards his office, walking in easily and closing the door. I had long since grown out of the days that I was afraid of Hank Voight.

I respected the hell out of him still, but afraid of him, I was not.

"What's up, Serg," I asked, sitting down in the chair across from him and folding my arms across my chest casually. His office had barely changed since I had left three years ago, The wooden panels may have been slightly more scuffed, and there were new photos on his desk, mostly of Jacob, and a few drawings on his walls, all _by_ Jacob, but bones of it were the same. For some reason, I found that oddly comforting.

"Just checking in," he said. I had been staring at one of the drawings Jacob had drawn - a stick figure in a leather jacket, which was presumably Hank, holding onto the hand of a smaller stick figure, presumably Jacob, holding a bouquet of balloons - when I noticed that he had begun sizing me up. It was as if he was looking for physical signs that might give him a hint as to my mental state. "How are the nightmares?" He said, shooting straight to the point.

Voight, Erin, Paul, Will, and Dr. Charles were the only people that knew about my nightmares. And Dr. Charles was the only one I really talked about them with. Even Erin didn't pry.

And so, I really didn't want to talk about this with Hank. "They're..." _Awful. Terrifying. Haunting. Still very much present._ I searched for words that would allow me to get out of this conversation, but not be a lie. "Stable."

Well, at the very least, that was true.

He seemed to understand that that was the most he was going to get from me about that subject, so he just nodded slowly.

But then he added, "How's it being back at home?"

A stifled the eye roll and grunt that I wanted to give him, and instead just shrugged slightly. I wasn't _back_ at home. _Back_ at home implies that I had been there previously.

But actually, I had never been to this apartment. And quite honestly, it still didn't _feel_ like home. I loved living there with Erin and Jacob, but it didn't feel like _our_ home. It felt like _their_ home.

But again, I wasn't about to get into that with him. "It's good," I said, because that was true enough. "Really good, actually," I allowed myself a smile as I thought back to that morning. Waking up to tickles and snuggles with my two favorite people, there really was nothing better than that. Home or not.

"Good," Hank said, seemingly satisfied by my answer.

After a long silence, I spoke. "Is that all?"

"Yeah," he crinkled his forehead and shrugged slightly, as if to say _This wasn't an interrogation, jeez._

"Okay," I said, standing from my desk. I began moving towards the door before I remembered something and turned back around. "I have my appointment with Dr. Charles today at lunch, if that's okay."

Usually, I tried to see Dr. Charles after hours. But earlier this week we had caught a big case, and I hadn't been able to make my appointment.

I _hated_ missing an appointment with Dr. Charles. I had long since passed trying to avoid these nightmares. Instead, I was really trying to face them head on. I was trying to figure out why they were happening, and what on earth I could do to make them go away. I just wanted to live my life.

I just wanted to wake up in the middle of the night and wake my wife by peppering kisses across her skin, _not_ by the sound of my screams.

"I didn't forget," Hank said, "Go whenever you need."

And so, I did.

I drove across town during my lunch break to meet Dr. Charles. Paul was in the OR all day, but I stopped and said a quick hello to Will in the ED, and then I took the elevator up to his private office.

His secretary ushered me in, and within minutes, we were through with the small talk and into the real talk. "I thought about what you said," I was sitting on his couch, leaning back, and staring up at the ceiling instead of meeting his gaze. "And you're right. I am reliving nightmares that I woke up in the middle of, the ones that were unfinished. And when I make it through a whole nightmare, I dont seem to have it again."

I hadn't noticed the pattern before he had pointed it out, but it was certainly a pattern.

"See," he said, his voice more certain than mine. "Maybe you just have to make it through the memories that torment you, in order to make it to the other side."

I took a deep, calming breath, but my eyes were still on the ceiling. I still couldn't hold his gaze.

There were stubborn, unbidden tears coming to the corners of my eyes and I didn't want to allow them to fall.

After taking several more deep, calming breaths, as Dr. Charlers had taught me, the tears reigned back in and I finally straightened myself enough to stare Dr. Charles in the face.

"But what if there are too many?" I asked, voicing the fear that had been tugging at me since this new theory of his had emerged. "What if there are so many memories that I never make it through them all?" _What if_ this _is my life?_

I closed my eyes then, blocking out the room, blocking out Dr. Charles.

Because, honestly, I didn't need to hear his answer to know what he was going to say.

And I didn't need to hear his answer to know that it would be a lie.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review!**

A/N: I am about to finish out this nightmare story line in the next chapter or two. Anyone have any suggestions to keep the story going? Or should I round out this storyline and finish up the story now? I'm having such writer's block on Nothing to Fear because I don't write happy characters well lol (except BTBR, that was an exception!) so I'm nervous to keep this one going without having good drama ready lol. Anyway, let me know what you think! Thanks for sticking with me!


	19. Chapter 19

Welpppppp. I'm back on nights and I don't have much time for writing, which sucks because I really miss this story. I tried to make this chapter a little longer to make up for the fact that I haven't been updating. I hope you're all still interested in reading it :) Happy weekend!

 **Chapter 19,**

 **Jay's POV**

There was a reason I usually went to see Dr. Charles after hours.

Reliving each nightmare in detail was grueling. Delving into each moment, forcing myself to truly _feel_ it and try to understand it, it was nearly impossible work.

Every time I wanted to stop, I would picture Erin's beautiful, dimple-filled smile, or I would picture Jacob's light freckles and his mop of curly hair, and I would find the strength to continue.

But even then, it wasn't easy.

And some days, I would find myself unable to slip right back into my normal routine. Sometimes, it would take a coffee with Paul or Will before leaving the hospital, or a jog around the city, or an hour long drive, just to get my head straight.

And I had long since promised myself I would never return home to Erin and Jacob until my head was straight.

But today, I had gone to see Dr. Charles during my lunch break, and I didn't have the luxury of slamming my sneakers into the pavement, blaring music in my ears, and breathing in the cool spring air, to get my head back in the game.

Instead, my head was full of my recent nightmare. I could still feel the way my heart lurched with the realization Mouse was being taken from me, that I would never see him again, alive. I could still smell the burning flesh that felt more real than the images themselves.

"You okay?" Erin could always sense my moods, so even if it wasn't a slow day, I know she would have been able to sense the tension in my shoulders, and in my mood.

I looked up from where I was staring at the computer and found her eyes. I could get lost in those hazel eyes for hours, and I would never get bored.

I opened my mouth to say, "I'm okay," the answer I seemed to always be spouting to her, but something stopped me. Instead, I took a deep breath and nodded towards the break room.

She followed me there, and I could sense the subtle change of her breathing, the way it quickened slightly, but then slowed again, as if she was forcing herself to stay calm.

She closed the door quietly behind us, and I moved towards the coffee maker, looking for something to do to busy my hands.

She let me, and for several seconds the only noise that could be heard was the rumble of the coffee maker, mixed with our ragged, strained breathing.

I finally exhaled, and the words, "I'm scared," seemed to come out with it.

She seemed completely shocked by my admission, and actually, I wasn't surprised. She shared with me, night after night. She told me about stories about her and Jacob, about her and Hank and Camille. She told me about her hopes and dreams. She told me about her fears.

But she never expected me to tell her anything.

And really, I never did.

But there was something about my latest appointment with Dr. Charles still not being out of my head that was making me a little more vocal. A little more brave.

And finally, I voiced my greatest fear.

"After I finish a dream, and I tell Dr. Charles about it," I began, and I was shocked by how shaky my voice had become.

 _She's your wife_ , I told myself, taking a calming breath. _She'll understand_.

She had been more than I could have ever asked for, more than I could have ever dreamed of, through this whole thing.

"Yeah," she said quietly, as if to urge me to _keep going_.

"I don't have the same dream again."

"That's good, right?" She drew out the words, speaking hesitantly, as if she knew that it actually wasn't.

This was the best thing about Erin. She never jumped to conclusions. She never got excited over progress, unless _I_ was excited too. She seemed to understand, through her own experiences and setbacks, that progress - sometimes - just made you that much more aware of how far you had to go.

"Yes," I said, turning towards the coffeemaker when the machine signaled it was finished brewing the pot. I reached for two mugs and began to pour the boiling liquid that, likely, neither one of us would drink this late in the afternoon. "But I have enough memories to last a-" _lifetime._

My voice broke before I was able to finish my sentence. and I turned to her, and I knew immediately that I didn't have to continue. I saw it in her eyes. The understanding there.

"Well," she said, reaching for me and brushing her fingers lightly against my cheek. "Then it's a good thing I have a lifetime of stories to share in the middle of the night."

 **Erin's POV**

It was true. I really did have a lifetime of stories. And with Jacob's personality growing bigger and funnier everyday, I knew we would never run out of things to talk about.

And I really would tell him one every night for the rest of my life if I had too.

But I don't think my heart has ever felt as broken as it did in that moment.

And not because I didn't enjoy our intimate time together - because, truly, I did. The quiet moments when Jay's nightmare had faded away and we were laughing together were quite literally my favorite moments of the day.

They were the moments I had dreamt about day after day, night after night, when I thought he had been taking from me. They were _everything_ I had ever wanted.

So, my heart wasn't broken for me.

It was broken for Jay.

I could tell these nightmares were tormenting him, but it was more than that, too. They were also causing him to keep his walls up. I could tell he still didn't feel like he was _home_. It could have been because he had never actually lived in this apartment before, because it didn't _feel_ like home to him, but for some reason, I didn't feel like that was it.

Or, at least, it wasn't the only thing.

He seemed like he was still living each moment like it could all be taken away.

Like maybe he thought that I would wake up one day and be tired of waking up at 2 am to the sound of his screams, that I would be tired of staying up and talking him down.

I wasn't sure how to tell him that would _never_ happen.

And sometimes, I knew, words just weren't enough.

It gave me an idea though, and instead of following Jay to the locker room where he went to take a moment after his admission in the break room, I found myself turning the opposite way and knocking on Hank's office door.

"Come in," the familiar voice came through the door. He clearly didn't know it was me, because his voice was gruff and angry instead of the soft voice he always reserved for his little girl.

"Hi," I said, tentatively. Father figure or not - he was still my boss, and it was still business hours.

"Hey, kid," he said, his voice warming just as I knew it would. My body relaxed, mirroring his. He leaned back in his chair, moving his attention away from the large stack of files on his desk and instead looked in my direction. "What's up?"

I slid into the chair across from him, before looking into his eyes. "I need a favor," my voice was still tentative, this time because I knew this request was more last minute than I would have liked.

He nodded his head, as if to say it didn't really matter the request - that the answer was going to be yes. I had gotten that nod many times throughout the years, and I hated taking advantage.

"Can you watch Jacob tonight?" I smiled apologetically, knowing he probably already had other plans.

"You got a hot date?" He asked, smirking at my discomfort.

I blushed. "Hopefully."

Maybe a hot date was just what we needed.

 **Jay's POV**

There's nothing like going to get ice cream with your kid to lighten any mood.

"I want all of them!" Jacob was resting on my hip, staring at the ice cream flavors through the glass. I was learning that Jacob didn't usually like to be held, instead he was more content running towards what he wanted at full speed. I like to think he was like me in that way.

But today, he was too short to see the flavors, so he lifted his arms in the air to signal he needed to be held.

I _loved_ holding him.

Him and Erin. There was literally nothing better.

"You have to pick, kiddo," Erin was saying and I noted that her voice was lighter than it had been at work, and it made me glad I suggested this little after daycare outing.

"Can I pick three?" He directed the question at me, almost as if he already knew his mother would say no, that I was his only shot. It was true, though, I could never say no to his puppy dog face. There was something about the combination of freckles, his dimples, his baby blue eyes - the fact that he was the most perfect mix of me and Erin - that made it impossible to say no.

"How about two?" I said, meeting him in the middle.

The smile I got in return said it all, and we went about choosing flavors.

A few minutes later, he was sitting quietly, devouring his ice cream. "Slow down, baby," Erin said. "At this rate, half the ice cream is going to be on your face!"

"Mmmmmm," was all he responded, and he continued to shovel bite after bite into his mouth until he completely finished the two large scoops we had bought him. Two large scoops _with_ rainbow sprinkles.

I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled in response to his ice cream filled face, and as we stood, it seemed like Erin couldn't either.

It was nice. Lauging together like this. Like a real family.

Sometimes when we were together, I allowed myself to forget about everything. I allowed myself to forget the years I spent away. I allowed myself to forget the physical distance _and_ the emotional distance. I allowed myself to forget just how screwed up I had become in all of this.

But then I would stand up after a long time of sitting, and my bad leg would ache from the motion.

And then I would remember.

 **Erin's POV**

The easy mood that had settled upon us at Ben and Jerry's seemed to fade away, and Jay got quiet again on the way to the car. I could tell something was troubling him, but I wasn't sure exactly what it was. I wasn't sure exactly why _today_ seemed so damn hard.

It was like every time we took one step forward, we took two steps back.

We had finally established a routine, between the nightmares, and work, and parenting Jacob, and Dr. Charles... but I was beginning to wonder if that was the problem. Maybe I was trying too hard to make everything normal for him, and it was all just too soon.

A hot date wasn't going to fix this problem.

I'm not sure _anything_ was going to fix this problem.

I decided not to tell Jay that I had planned to go out that night just the two of us. I think at this point, I just needed this day to be over. I drove along silently, trying to stifle back the tears that were forming in my eyes and clogging my throat.

 _Tomorrow will be better,_ I told myself. Because really, it _had_ to be.

But then, when we got home, Hank was already pulling up in the guest parking spots. "Hey," Jay said, noticing him before I did. I was busy unbuckling Jacob from the carseat, and so I didn't notice right away when the two men started walking towards each other.

"What's up, Sarge," I heard the confusion in Jay's voice, and the concern that was leaking into it. After spending three years with absolutely no certainties, Jay seemed to always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Nothing," Hank said, easily. "Just here to spend the night with my main man." He walked right past Jay and opened the other car door, reaching for Jacob, who was newly unstrapped from the carseat.

"Grandpa!" He yelled excitedly. Jacob used to see Hank every day, and he always lit up whenever he got to spend time with him now.

"Hi, little man," Hank said, reaching for him and scooting him towards the door. Jacob jumped right into his arms, and surprisingly, didn't insist on being put down or let go of.

"Hi!" He replied, his voice high pitched and squealing with animation. "Are you staying for dinner?"

"It looks like you already ate," Hank laughed, and reached to squeeze Jacob's cheeks, which still had stains of chocolate ice cream spread across them because he had _refused_ to let us use the baby wipes to clean his face.

"We went for ice cream," he said, and I closed the car door and grabbed my bag as I watched the two of them together. Hank began walking towards the front door of the apartment building while Jacob continued to chat his ear off. "I had chocolate _and_ vanilla. And I had rainbow sprinkles on top!"

"You did?" There voices became more faint, but no less excited, as Jay walked up beside me.

"What's up?" He asked again, this time without any of the fear or accusation he had used when asking Hank.

"I thought we could go out," I kept my voice light, hoping he wouldn't think I was babying him after the day he had.

"Because you thought I needed it?" He asked, and I noticed that a little trepidation had returned to his voice.

 _Hell yes,_ I wanted to say, but I didn't.

"I thought _we_ needed it," I said, instead.

But that wasn't any less true. We really, really did.

 **Jay's POV**

I think I was just having a day.

I was having one of those days where you feel like your in a funk, and all the little things start to catch up to you. Your reality is the same, day in and day out, and nothing has really changed. But then one day you find yourself just starting to think about it too much. There's one day where you start to let all the shit sink in completely, deep into your bones, until you feel like you're in a hole you'll never get out from.

I think I was just having that kind of day.

And so, I really didn't want to go out.

I wanted to sit and wallow, to think about how my life is complicated, and hard, and sad, and scary. About how I spent three years of my life being tortured, away from my family, about how I missed so much, and how nothing is ever, _ever_ going to be the same.

But, Hank was there, and Erin was dressed, and she looked gorgeous, and so we were going out.

And somehow _, somehow,_ it became the night that changed everything. The night that made all the difference.

"You okay?" Erin was sitting across from me at the Purple Pig, and I was pushing food around my plate. It was a clear tell of mine, because I _never_ push Purple Pig around my plate. I mean, the quality of their truffles are _literally_ not to be believed.

"Yeah," I said automatically, because that was always my response.

She didn't reply for a long time, and I kept my eyes glued to my plate so as to avoid the hurt that was undoubtedly in her eyes in response to my answer.

"I'm not okay."

Her words caused me to look up, and right away, I saw the sadness in her hazel eyes that I had already known would be there. I couldn't speak, but instead, just held her gaze for what felt like _hours._

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and if it's possible for a broken spirit to shatter even further, mine did.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," I responded, finally finding my words. "Nothing."

"I think I just feel a little overwhelmed," she revealed, and once again, I stared at her, completely lost for words. Erin spent every night telling me story after story, moment after moment, but she never _ever_ told me she felt overwhelmed.

In all of her stories, she was strong. She was the strongest woman I knew, and I had known that before. But then she lost her husband, and she somehow found a way to keep going. She parented the most amazing boy, she worked hard at her job, she found the strength, and she _kept going._

She never stopped long enough to be overwhelmed.

But actually, come to think of it, her stories were always of the past. She never revealed to me how she was feeling in the moment. Not now, and not in any of the moments since I had found her again.

So this was a first.

And, I guess, it had been a long time coming.

"I love you," she whispered, "I have loved you every minute of every day since the first time you helped me put on my vest in Intelligence." She continued, and I couldn't breath. She was quite literally stealing my breath, holding my heart. "And that hasn't changed. When I thought I lost you, I loved you. When you came back to me, I loved you. I love you so much it surprises me that I don't burst from it."

Erin Lindsay always held her emotions close. Even the first time she told me she loved me, as we were driving in our car at work, she told me more with her eye than she ever did with her words.

Even at our wedding, we had opted for the traditional vows, because neither one of us has ever been good at putting our feelings into words.

We know they're there, and that's always been enough.

So as she continued, I was still holding my breath. I felt completely taken aback by her openness, by the way she was holding my gaze even as she shook up my entire world. "I know that things are hard right now," she sighed, reaching for my hand to lace her fingers through it. I shiver as her finger tips touch my own. "I know that you are struggling, and I can see that you're holding back. I know that you're not letting me see the full extent of your pain."

I let out a huge sigh at her words. Partly because I knew deep down how true they are and I was completely devastated to know it was hurting her this much and partly because my heart was beating so rapidly and my breathing was so ragged that I needed to breath so I didn't pass out.

"I just want you to know," she pressed on, and that's when I saw that her breathing was strained, too. She was nerovus as I was. "I am here. I will be here, and I will love you, every day for the rest of our lives. And you can struggle, and you can hold back, and you can have good days, and bad days, and terrible days, and it doesn't matter to me. I'm here, and I will love you through all of it."

I could hear the pounding of my heart beat loud in my ears, and I could feel the tears clog my throat. "I love you, too."

They were the only words I could find to say.

I only hoped they were enough.

 **Erin's POV**

The air was lighter between us as we walked to the car, hand in hand. The waiter had interuppted our moment, which actually came as a welcome distraction, and then we moved towards ordering dessert. Jay made a joke about two desserts in one day, since we already had ice cream, and the heaviness of the moment was lifted.

When we got home, at my suggestion, we decided to take a walk around the block before going inside. It was something we had done years ago and I had been itching to bring it back.

I'm glad I did, because as we walked, hand in hand, Jay told me about the night he had been captured. He told me about how he had started with four men, but how slowly but surely, it became so he was the only one left. For two of them Jay hadn't even know what had become of them, but then there was one that he had starve himself to death.

He had refused food for days until he finally had succumb to starvation. Jay's voice was so raw and quiet when he told me how jealous he was that day. That he had considered doing the same, that actually, he had tried. But every time he almost refused food, he pictured my face, and it was that image that kept him going.

I listened as he talked, and I reflected on how rare this was. This relationship, that was full of love and laughter, full of light moments and jokes, and then full of intensity and and tragedy and heartbreak, and how we could swing back and forth even in one night.

And I revelled on how lucky I was, even as I listened to his heartbreaking stories of war. How lucky I was that he had pictured my face. That he had come back to me.

When we got back to out apartment, I decided it was time to flip back to the lighter side of things, that he had _definitely_ done enough sharing for one night. "Thanks, Hank," I said, as I walked him towards the door.

"You know I'd do anything for you, kid," he said, quietly. "Is everything okay?" I knew there was no way Hank hadn't noticed the tension in Jay's shoulders, or the heaviness clear in his mood, so I was expecting the question.

"Yeah," I answered. _Or at least, it will be._

When I walked back into the living room, Jay was already sitting on the couch. He began to stand when he saw me, "Want a beer?" He asked, seemingly as ready to lighten to mood as I was.

"Umm..." I said, "I'm okay, I just want to change."

"Okay," he replied, but he didn't follow to the bedroom.

Which was a good thing. Because for this, I needed a couple of minutes of privacy.

 **Jay's POV**

I sat on the couch, sipping my beer and staring at the wall, waiting for Erin to return, think about how glad I was that we took that walk.

I still wasn't ready to look her in the eyes when I told her those stories and my heart nearly stopped as I recalled those moments that I'd been desperately trying to forget. But walking side by side, her warm hand in mine, I was able to do it. I was able to finally _share._

But then, Erin walked into the living room, and my heart stopped for a whole different reason.

Her hair was down, and her curls ran smoothly past her shoulders. She was wearing a black piece of lace that seemed almost _glued_ to her curves. There were cutouts throughout, showing me hints of her bare skin beneath the lace. My eyes continued their downward descent until they found her black knee high stockings and sky high heels. Then my eyes swept up again, past her perfect body, with her perfect breasts, until I found her face.

"Coming to bed?" She whispered, and her voice was so sultry and seductive, I quite literally lost my breath.

She was stealing my breath left and right tonight. "Oh definitely," I replied, as I quickly discarded my beer and reached for her.

My hands found her bottom, and I lifted her up into my arms. She wrapped her legs tightly around my waist, pressing the center of her body tight against my already growing erection.

She pressed opened mouth kisses from my jaw, down my neck, to the open space above my collar bone as I carried her towards our bedroom. In a daze, I flipped on the lights and gently laid her down on the bed.

 _Holy shit. My wife is so fucking sexy,_ I thought as I looked at her, lips red, face flushed, hair fanned out on his pillow, her heavy breathing mirroring my own. I kissed her, lost myself in her lips for seconds, minutes, hours? I couldn't be sure.

Our lips broke contact only when she reached to peel my shirt off, and then once my shirt had been discarded to the floor, she found my lips again.

I wanted her, needed to take her right there, in one greedy gulp.

 _Slow down,_ I told myself, forcing myself to take a beat. _Or this will be over way too soon._

I linked my fingers with hers and I kissed my way down her body, slowly peeling back the knee high stockings one by one before shoving away the lace. She arched in response, biting back another moan. I swept my tongue over her breasts even as my fingers found her, hot and wet and waiting for me. Slowly, I pressed kisses down her flat stomach until I lowered my head and pressed my lips to her inner thigh.

She buckled underneath me, and her limbs began to quiver as an orgasm ripped through her, and all she could do was breath out my name.

" _Jay."_

It's moment's like this, I realized, moments like this, where I felt almost normal again. Where I felt like we were back to our normal selves, finding our release in each other, like we were the only two people in the world.

It's nearly an hour later when I'm reminded we're not.

"Daddy." My eyes open slightly at the sound of my son's hushed voice.

In our crazed entry to the bedroom, we had forgotten to place the towel beneath the door to block out the sounds, and Jacob was able to open the door and come right in.

Thank god we were dressed.

"Yeah, buddy," I replied, my voice thick with sleep, and that's when I noticed the crackling thunder and lightening outside. With Erin curled into my side, I had actually been sleeping, and hadn't heard it at all.

"I'm scared," he whispered, motioning towards the window at the exact moment that ligtening lit up the sky.

"Come here," I said, reaching down and lifting him into our bed. I moved a little so there was room for him between me and Erin, and I snuggled him into my side. "You can sleep in here tonight, buddy," I whispered.

But even as I said it, I knew I would have to move him in an hour. In the month I had been back in this apartment, he had never tried to sleep in here. And he wasn't about to start now. There's no way I could let him bear witness to my nightmares. Allowing Erin to witness them was hard enough.

As if reading my mind, Erin whispered, "We can move him soon." I hadn't even realized she'd been awake, and now she was smiling at me and linking her fingers in between my own.

"Okay," I said, already feeling calmer. With Jacob snuggled into my neck, his chubby hands grasping my t-shirt, and with Erin in my arms, her hands linked with my own, there was no way _not_ to feel calm.

And my body must have felt it, too. Because somehow, _somehow,_ I fell asleep.

And I slept soundly. And the next time I woke up, with the two people I loved most in the world still in my arms, it was morning.

And the nightmares were gone.

xoxo

Please Review and let me know if you are still interested in reading more :) Thanks everyone!


	20. Chapter 20

Hi all :) I am back after a little bit of a hiatus, but I was going back and forth trying to decide if I should end the story where it is or keep the storyline going. This is my introduction in my next storyline, please let me know if you think I should keep going with it :) I know it's short! Longer ones to come :)

 **Jay's POV**

They're not completely gone. They still sneak up on me sometimes. I will have fallen asleep soundly, my arms wrapped around the woman I love the most in the world, and the images will come rushing back into my brain. I'll remember the look on a fellow soldier's face when they were shot, when they knew the end was near. I'll remember the depths of starvation I endured, the depts of torture. I'll remember the deep-seated fear I had that I would never see my wife or my friends ever again. But even when they do, for some reason, they're not as bad. It's almost as if I _kind of_ know they're not real as they're happening. I don't thrash around with them either, and I must not even arouse Erin, because usually when they're over, I wake up on my own. I lean down and press a kiss against her warm temple, and then fall back asleep.

So, no, they're not completely gone. But I've only had four nightmares in the past six weeks. And so, I consider myself pretty much there. Pretty much moved on.

Which is good.

And not just for the obvious reasons. Like, you know, my kid can come in and sleep on my side of the bed in the middle of the night and I don't worry that my thrashing is going to scare him and scar him for life. Although, that's nice too.

But no, that's actually _not_ the reason.

It's because, well, it's just really good timing.

Because while my life was getting better, _easier,_ my wife's life was falling apart. And, well, she can't always be the one keeping us afloat.

It started about a week ago when we were at work. It was a slow day, which I'm realizing is never a good thing.

Erin was sitting in her chair, leaning back casually, which I was sitting on her desk. Things had become so much more relaxed between us, in the best way. She had one hand rested on my knee, and I was busy playing with the fingers of her other hand, running my fingers over her knuckles, down her fingers, over her palm. I coud just never get enough of _touching_ her skin, even in this innocent way. It was of the things I had missed most before. Just the _feel_ of her. Her warmth.

"Get a room you two," Ruzek said, playfully, as he came into the bullpen and moved directly to Kim's desk.

To my surprise, Erin looked over at Ruzek and then back to me before saying, "Okay." Then she winked at me, before standing from her chair and grabbing my hand.

I blushed as we moved across the bullpen towards the breakroom, glancing in the direction of Voight's office and relaxing slightly when I saw the door was closed. Even if we were having a slow day, he seemed as busy as ever at his desk.

But then all at once, the playful mood drained from Erin's face.

I turned to see what had changed her mood so suddently, and I heard her before I saw her. Her voice was cemented in my mind as one of the things I _didn't_ need to remember. "Erin," she said.

By the time I had turned fully, Erin had already released her hold on my hand and was moving back to sit in her chair. She was feigning a nonchalance I _knew_ she wasn't actually feeling.

"Bunny," she finally responded, as she leaned back in her chair. "What do you want?" I watched her try to mimick the effortless way she had leaned back in her chair only moments ago, when she was talking to me. She wasn't quite getting it, but I didn't imagine her mother would notice such a subtle nuance.

Bunny looked pained, something I knew she wasn't actually feeling either. "Do I need to want something to come see my daughter?" She asked.

I immediately rolled my eyes at her question, wanting this song and dance to be over.

There was a pause then, and in the silence, a question ran across my mind. But even before it was able to form, Erin answered. "I haven't seen or heard from you in four years." _Okay,_ I thought. So then last time Erin had seen Bunny, I had been there.

So she hadn't met Jacob. Did she even _know_ about Jacob?

"So yes, you need to _want_ something." Erin finished, and I noticed that her voice began to shake slightly at the end. I - already halfway to the break room, where I was headed before we were rudely interrupted - began to move towards Erin's desk for support.

I passed by Voight's office door, and I noticed that he was no longer sitting working at his desk. Instead, he had opened it, and was standing in the doorway leaning against the post. He seemed as ready to move towards Erin to support her as I was, but he stayed in place, seemingly to let me go forth.

As I moved, Bunny's eyes widened, as if she was just noticing me for the first time. Really, I think she just hadn't realized the _relevance_ of seeing me, since she hadn't been around in the last four years and all.

"I thought you died," she said, and her voice revealed a hint of apprehension, like maybe someone was playing a trick on her.

Jesus. This woman was seriously a piece of work. A serious piece of work with absolutely _no_ tact.

"Mom," Erin said. Her voice was a large, angry exhale, and right away I knew she meant business. Most children called their parents by their first name rarely, only if they were actively trying to distance themselves from their parents in the moment. But for Erin, it was almost the opposite. She had called Bunny by her first name _forever,_ and it was only when she was truly losing patience that she resorted to calling her mom - a name she had _never_ truly earned.

"Please. Leave." I could see a hint of tears welling in her eyes as she spoke, and honestly, I couldn't blame her. Bunny may have been a terrible mother, but what the _fuck_ was she thinking letting her daughter bury her husband alone. That was low, even for Bunny.

I couldn't believe she hadn't reached out in _four_ years.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," Bunny kept her voice casual, as if this wasn't terribly important to her. It made me hate her even more, if that was even possible.

She turned to leave, before turning back and adding, "I just came to tell you that your dad is getting out of prison in two days. And he wants to meet you." Her voice was so nonchalant, but even she noticed the way the air completely sucked out of the room. Even Ruzek's sharp intake of breath was audible.

"My dad," Erin breathed, and the anguish in her voice quite literally twisted my insides. "Is standing right over there." She cocked her head towards Hank, and then allowed herself to look at him. Tears were pooling in her eyes for real this time, but for some reason, this time it was okay. This time it felt _positive._

Her relationship with Hank had been everything to her, and he really had been the father she had never had.

 _He_ had taken her in when no one else would. _He_ had given her a family, a _life._

And _he_ had stood by her as she buried her husband.

He gave her his card at 14, and he had be there for her ever since.

Bunny stormed off, seemingly understanding that nothing she could say in that moment would matter. That nothing she could do would take away from this moment between Erin and Hank. The only moment that mattered.

Erin stood from her desk, and just like Hank had done for me moments before, that's when I stood back and let _him_ be the support.

She moved towards him and gave him a long hug. He wrapped his arms around her like he never did with anyone else, and I noticed that he whispered something in her ear, and then I heard her chuckle lightly.

It was a beautiful sound.

Yes. It had been Hank that had been her constant. Even when I wasn't there to take care of her, Hank had been. He had made life better for her more times than either one of us could ever begin to count.

So, I think that's why it hurt so much more when all of that was taken away.

 **xoxo**

 **Author's Note:** Okay, so those of you have read my earlier stories know that I generally just write what I wish I would see in the show. So this is pretty much going to be what I wish we would have seen last season when all of this went down with her mom, her dad, and Hank. Let me know if you are interested in me continuing with this :)

Have a great week y'all :)


	21. Chapter 21

Ok y'all. It's time for my take on the Hank/Erin/Jimmy/Bunny situation. With some stuff added in :) Hope you like it! And hope you're having a great week. Happy reading!

 **Chapter 21,**

 **Erin's POV**

"I don't want her anywhere near Jacob," I twisted the pasta around my fork, pushing the food Jay made across my plate, feeling anything but hungry. It was later that evening, and with Jacob finally asleep in his bedroom, we had a minute to ourselves. We were eating spaghetti and meatballs, a recent staple in our household, since it had recently become Jacob's favorite.

"She won't be," Jay reassured me, reaching across the table and grabbing my hand. He must've noticed I wasn't actually eating, because he reached for the hand holding the fork and laced his fingers warmly between my own. "I'll make sure of it," he gave me a soft smile that he slowly spread into a smirk, "And even if I can't, you _know_ Voight will make sure she doesn't come within a ten mile radius of Jacob."

That caused me to smile, and a little bit of the tension seeped from my shoulders. Jay was right. I was just overreacting. "The silver lining in all of this is that she doesn't even _know_ about Jacob."

I hadn't told her I was pregnant. And why should I?

She hadn't come to Jay's funeral. And it's not like she hadn't known about it. Really, it was likely because she had felt insulted that she hadn't received a personal invitation from me. She had just received phone call from Hank alerting her to the news. But honestly, a call was nice. I would've expected him to just send her a text.

And anyway, that day wasn't about her. None of this was about her.

"Baby." At the sound of Jay's quiet voice, I looked up. Jay's smirk had disappeared, and he was looking at me sadly. "In all the stories you've told me," he shook his head, as if taking a moment to remember each and every piece of information I had told him about that horrible time in my life. "It never even occured to me to ask about Bunny." He squeezed my hand gently, before standing and moving closer to me. He bent down and pressed his warm lips against my forehead before adding in a whisper, "I'm so sorry."

I knew he wasn't just apologizing about Bunny. There was a reason he hadn't noticed her absence, and there was a reason I had never even thought to bring it up - she wasn't all that relevant to us. She hadn't been for a long time.

So I knew he wasn't apologizing for her role - or lack of role - in things. Instead, he was apologizing for _his_ role. For the fact that he had been taken from me, that he had been assumed dead for years, or maybe, he was apologizing for the fact that he had even left me at all.

"I know," I said, letting him off the hook. I had let go of all that hurts and sadness and really, anger, a long time ago. I had my husband back, and I didn't need to dwell on the past.

Neither of us did. And since that night Jacob had spent in our room, I _really_ had my husband back. The nightmares were essentially gone, and it was like everything was back to normal. Actually, it was _better_ that normal.

Because when something is taken away from you, it just highlights how much it meant to you in the first place, how much you loved it, how much you _needed_ it. This whole ordeal has given me some perspective, and I can tell it has given Jay some perspective, too.

I know after everything we've been through that we'll never take a moment for granted ever again, that we'll never take _each other_ for granted ever again. Things had been so wonderful between us, between our family, these past few months.

And this nonsense with Bunny wasn't going to change that. She wasn't worth getting upset over, and she certainly wasn't worth losing an appetite over.

And with that final thought, I took a deep breath and grabbed my fork and dug in. Because, honestly, spaghetti and meatballs was my favorite, too.

One week later, and I was sitting at a formica table in an old diner, facing the door, waiting for Bunny and my father to show up.

The diner was an old style, kind of dingy, but still managed to have that homey feel. I was the one who picked it. It was close to work, but it was far enough away that it wasn't my usual. I didn't want to take one of my favorite places, and ruin it with the memory of this meal.

Because it hadn't even started, and I already knew it was going to be _that_ bad. "I don't know how I let you talk me into this," I whispered under my breath to Jay, who was sitting next to me. His leg was pressed up against mine, something I always did when I needed to calm down. His mere presence soothed me. His touch reminded me this wasn't all a dream.

"Yes you do," he replied, reaching over and squeezing my knee gently.

He was right. I did.

Bunny had showed up to the district twice more in the past week, and the final time, she had insisted Sergeant Platt give her our home address. Our whole team had been out apprehending a suspect, and thankfully, Platt squashed her like a bug stuck on the bottom of her shoe, and within seconds, she was back out the door.

But later that night, Jay and I had discussed it.

He was scared this was going to keep happening. And usually _I_ was the one worried about these things, so his worry made it even more real. Because if she did somehow track down our home address, it was only a matter of time that she found out about Jacob.

And _he_ was our first priority.

"I know," I said, closing my eyes and resting my head down. The table was cool and clean against my forehead, and I welcomed it as I took several deep breaths.

"And this will be over before you know it," he said, running his hand up and down my back in a gesture that was designed to calm me down.

It did. "You're right," I said, lifting my head up and straightening myself.

"Plus, they're running late," Jay said, glancing at the time illuminated on his cell phone. "And we have to get back to work in forty five minutes, so we have an excuse to make this short."

"Maybe they won't come at all," I said hopefully.

But then, as if on cue, Bunny appeared in the doorway. She had a man standing next to her, and my very first thought was that he didn't look familiar _at all_.

It's funny, because as I child, I distinctly _remember_ the day he had been taken by the police. I remember the noise of it all. It remember so vividly the way my stomach tied in knots, how my heart raced. I remember that even through the fear, I had hidden behind the couch and had forced myself to stay quiet and calm in a manner that was way too mature for my age.

And if Bunny was telling the truth with all her stories of the rest of my childhood, I hadn't seen him since that day.

I was four years old.

As he moved closer, I examined his features. He had deep blue eyes that matched my mothers, and I absentmindedly wondered where that meant I got my hazel eyes from. But I was distracted enough by the anxiety in his blue eyes, in his jerky movements, that I didn't allow the thought to fully form.

"Erin." As soon as he spoke, I realized that he may not have _looked_ familiar, but he _sounded_ familiar. I could feel my body respond to his voice, as if it had been etched deep into my memory. "You're all grown up," he whispered. And I couldn't tell if his voice was raspy from emotions, from cigarettes, or if, maybe, I had come by my raspy tone naturally.

"I am," I replied, and despite myself, my voice shook, in a way it _never_ had when I spoke to Bunny.

Jay seemed to sense that I needed a minute, because he stood and took over. "Hi," he reached out his hand to shake my father's. "I'm Jay Halstead, Erin's husband."

"Jimmy," he replied. "It's very nice to meet you." His handshake seemed uncertain, but neither Jay nor I made like we noticed. Instead, Jay gestured casually for everyone to take a seat, and he lead my way, helping me keep myself steady, but doing so in a way that no one would notice.

Thank _god_ for Jay.

"So," Bunny began, and her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, interuppting my moment of surreallness and profound realization. "Erin, we-"

Jimmy cut her off then, as if he was personally insulted by the word _we,_ as if he didn't want to be combined in a thought with Bunny. Maybe we were more alike than I thought. "Erin," he said my name again, and it was like I was back in my childhood. I couldn't remember a specific memory, but I could feel my insides warm at the softness of his voice. "It is so good to see you."

Jimmy's voice was raw with emotion, and everyone at the table sat with baited breath as he continued. "I missed you." He shook his head, as if this was too surreal for him to wrap his head around, too. "I thought about you every day that I was inside." He reached into his bag slowly and grabbed a stack of pictures. "I watched you grow up through pictures, and let me tell you," he shook his head again, "It just wasn't enough."

"How did you..." I suddenly seemed as a loss for words as my eyes drifted down to the pile. The one on the top was from my graduation from the academy. It was black and white, and had clearly been cut out from a newspaper article. I think that article was in the Chicago Tribune, if I remembered correctly.

"I sent them," Bunny said, almost irritated. "I'm not a _complete_ monster."

I could feel the comeback bubbling from Jay as he bristled next to me, but he managed to hold it in. Surprisingly, so did I.

"I want to get you know you, for real," my father continued. "But, only on your terms. I will go as slow as you want."

"Okay," was all I could find to say. "Okay," I repeated myself, while I tried to find some other words to use.

I couldn't find any.

After an awkward few moments, Jay began to speak in my stead. "We have to get back to work," Jay said, reaching for my heavy winter coat which I had placed on the back of my chair. "But, how about you give us your phone number."

He was placing the ball in my court. He wasn't offering up any information. Instead he was _getting_ information that I could use as I pleased.

Again, I thought, thank _god_ for him.

"Okay," my father looked up, and his eyes met mine. The soft blue eyes that had been emanating anxiety only moments before were now giving off something resembling _hope_.

My heart clutched at the sight of it.

And my heart stayed that way, beating rapidly, until Jay and I got safely into our Sierra.

We buckled quietly, and Jay turned the volume on the radio down to low. I was so overwhelmed with emotion, I could barely speak. And when I did it was in a whisper. "I have a dad," I said the sentence so quietly, I'm not even sure Jay heard it over the sound of the engine.

Then I took a deep breath, put the car in drive, and drove us back to work.

 **Jay's POV**

I heard it.

I heard the raw emotion in her voice. I heard the desperation, the longing, the _hope_ there. I could tell she wanted this to be real, that she _needed_ it to be.

I heard it.

But then two weeks later, I did something stupid, anyway.

Really, I just wanted to protect her. And in my defense, I could tell Erin was coming close to telling Jimmy about Jacob. I had to protect him, too.

But even so, I should've asked her first.

Actually, come to think of it, I _did_ ask her.

But she said no.

We had been at dinner at Molly's. This was already a change, because Erin had been completely against bringing Jimmy and her mother to a spot she actually _enjoyed_ spending time at. Then, as soon as we sat down, I noticed that he had brought another stack of those damn pictures. The pictures of Erin as a child that had her misty eyed, mostly because her mother had been too high off her ass to care to save such momentos.

"Your mother and I are going to buy that store together," he was saying, and Bunny couldn't hide the sly smile that spread across her face.

In only a few days, he had gone from disliking that term _we_ to clumping himself with Bunny in a business transaction.

And, see that's the thing. It's not like I thought _Jimmy_ was lying, so much as that this whole story just didn't add up. And it had _Bunny Fletcher_ written all over it.

Then, as they stood to leave, Erin and Jimmy shared this look, holding each others gaze like they were the only two people in the room.

I could _feel_ how desperately she wanted a relationship with this man. She could have told me one hundred times until she is blue in the face that Hank is the only parent she will ever need, but there seems to be something missing her life anyway. It's why she slipped back into old habits with Bunny so many times. She had always craved that _blood_ relationship. That "real" family. Even though, if you ask me, "real" family can be overrated.

Especially where hers is concerned.

As soon as they left the restaraunt, I stood from the table. "Just do me a favor." I said, as I slid my leather jacket across one arm. I kept my voice meaured, even though I was feeling anything but. "Let me run a DNA test on him," I offered casually. "Just in case this whole thing is a fantasy."

"No," she whispered, almost as quietly as she had in the car.

But this time I couldn't pretend I hadn't heard her. "No?"

"No," she said again. Her voice was raspy, and the sadness in it broke my heart. "If it is a fantasy, let me live in it for a minute."

And so, I was going to. I was going to leave it alone, and not run the test.

But then, the next day he showed up at work. I heard his voice coming up the stairs, and within seconds, I was rushing to my desk and hers to hide the family photos that decorated both of our desks.

I was breathing heavily by the time the two of them made it to the top of the stairs. "Jay," Jimmy said, reaching out a hand to shake mine. "Great to see you again." He said it casually, as if we hadn't seen each other _literally_ the night before.

"Jimmy just stopped by to bring us lunch," Erin said, and her voice was light and airy. There was even a hint of a smile behind her voice, and there was zero trepidation. "Wasn't that nice of him?"

"Sure was," I said, returning the smiling, and forcing my breathing to return to the normal rate.

"If you have some time," Erin said, her voice hopeful. "We can eat together in the break room?"

"I'd love that," Jimmy said, returning her easy smile.

I wasn't sure if she wanted me to join them, but I opted to do so. I was still feeling nervous about this whole situation and I wasn't about to miss an opportunity to analyze it further.

But then we had barely made it in the room when Hank walked in.

"Hank this is-"

Hank cut off Erin's introduction. "Jimmy," he said knowingly. "How are you?" Even as he said the words, he didn't sound like he really wanted to know the answer. Jimmy must have known that, because instead of answering his question, he shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Hey," Jimmy said, moving away from the table and towards the doorway where Hank stood. His anxious, jerky movements were back. "Looking good, Hank. Still at your fighting weight."

"Yeah," Hank said, holding his gaze in a way that would've terrified me if I had been on the other end.

Jimmy continued to approach nonetheless, and when he made it to Hank he reached out his hand. "I just want to say..." he trailed off, as if at a loss for words. "You did a real good job raising her."

Hank's eyes didn't cool in the slightest when he responded. "Happy to help."

Hank turned and walked away, retreating into his office and softly closing the door, even though I could tell he was resisting the urge to slam it.

And Erin didn't follow him.

Instead, she looked embarassed by Hank's behavior, and when Jimmy tried to make an excuse to leave, she insisted he stay for lunch. Evidently, she wasn't about to let Hank run him off.

Evidently, she wasn't going to make sure he knew that she _also_ thought he did a good job raising her. That _he_ was her dad.

Nope. She was choosing the fantasy. Whether it was real or not.

And _that's_ when I decided to run the DNA test.

 **Hank's POV**

 _You did a real good job raising her._

The sound of Jimmy's voice was like nails on a chalk board, but worse was the sound of Erin's laugh in response to something he had just said. They were sitting there eating lunch together in _my_ bullpen, and I felt trapped in my office, unable to do a damn thing about it.

I tried to distract myself with work on the computer, but it wasn't helping. Slow days were _never_ good, but lately, they had been even worse. This whole thing had been making me feel so unsettled.

At the sound of the light knock on my door, I yelled a very angry, "What?", that I hoped would scare whoever it was away.

But when I looked up, Haley Upton was standing in the doorway. She had started on our team a few months ago, when Jay had returned to being Erin's partner, and Antonio had been in need of a new one.

She fit the team like a glove, she was a really good detective. She was quick on her feet and had a good head on her shoulders.

So, she was a really great addition to the team.

There was also the fact that her presence always seemed to calm me down, in a way that no one else's had since Camille.

But I never let myself dwell on _that._

"Hey boss," she said, as she moved into my office and gently closed the door. Even after she had been in here for thirty seconds, I could _feel_ my breathing evening out. It must have been her eyes. Or the way hair glowed in the light. "Just checking in."

That was the other thing. Erin had been so focused on Jay the past few months, she hadn't been walking into my office to _just check in._

Although, to be honest, I never thought I would need anyone to fill that role. I was perfectly fine without it.

But at the same time, it was kind of nice.

And with Haley, it didn't exactly _feel_ the same. She may have only been a few years older than Erin, she may have been nearly young enough to be my daughter, but she didn't feel like my daughter. Not even close.

"I'm good, Upton," I said. I always tried to use her last name, to remind myself to distance myself from her. Not only because I was her boss, not only because I had created a _no in-house dating rute_ (that every _single_ one of my detectives had broken), but because she would never in a million years think of me like that.

And honestly, I just didn't think I could take _another_ rejection right now.

The rejection I was getting loud and clear from Erin Lindsay was enough for one day. For one lifetime, actually.

"You sure?" She said, as she tucked her blond hair behind her ear and leaned against the chair. I could tell she wanted to sit in it. Sometimes, we had long conversations. They always started about work, but sometimes they lingered, and sometimes we ended up talking about nothing. But those conversations were few and far between, and they were usually after the work day ended. And they _definitely_ weren't when Jimmy Sanguinetti was sitting five feet from my office, enjoying a meal with my kid.

"I'm sure," I nodded, and as much as it pained me, I nodded towards my door, signaling that it was time for both of us to get back to work.

 **Jay's POV**

I wasn't necessarily surprised when the DNA test came back and Erin and Jimmy weren't a match.

Heartbroken for my wife, sure. But surprised? Not really.

What _did_ surprise me came about three days later.

Erin and I got had gotten into a _huge_ fight over the DNA test results. I told her immediately when I got them, and she was furious at me for going behind her back. She was even more angry when Jimmy left her on the side of the road, picking up scraps of pictures of her childhood, of her former life.

We made up though, and afterwards, I realized it was the first _real_ fight we'd had since I'd been back from Afghanistan.

She had _finally_ stopped walking on eggshells around me, and for that I could not have been more grateful.

That, and the make up sex hadn't been bad either.

So actually, I was feeling pretty okay about the whole thing.

But then the next day, after Erin and I had resolved our fight and taken Jacob out to a _very_ special pancake breakfast, I overheard something that made my heart sink even further for my beautiful wife.

I was in the office by the front door of District 21 looking for a file. Platt had told me it was in there, but for the life of me I hadn't been able to find it. I was bent over the drawers, rifling through for the third time.

I was just about to give up when Bunny walked into the district. "Hank," she said, and her voice was so shrill and enraged that it would have caught my undivided attention even if it wasn't Bunny it belonged to. I perked up, standing from my bent position and angling my head so I could see through the half-opened door.

"Something I can help you with?" Hank's voice was the opposite of Bunny's, calm and cool. He stood on the stairs, casually walking down, taking his time with each step.

She waited until he got to the bottom before she said, "You know, I thought Jimmy _was_ Erin's father." She huffed, and at that, my cheeks reddened slightly. "And then you run a DNA test. How dare you?"

Okay. So safe to say Bunny doesn't know _I'm_ the one who ran the test.

"You been drinking, Bunny?" Hank asked, and his voice was as steely as ever. I'm not sure he knew before this moment that Jimmy _wasn't_ Erin's father, because she hadn't exactly been going around advertising it, but he hadn't faltered a bit.

She didn't falter either, and instead, she ignored his comment. "You couldn't have me, so you took my daughter. And you're still doing it." The look of disgust in his eyes couldn't be hidden, even through the wooden slacks of the window shade. "You know, I think maybe Erin should run a DNA test on _you_."

 _What?_

Right away, my blood ran cold.

What. the. _fuck._ was Bunny talking about. All of a sudden, everything moved in slow motion for me. I heard their conversation, but it was almost as if I was in a daze.

Could this be _true?_

"I'm gonna say something that I probably haven't said in 30 years," Hank replied, seemingly unruffled by this turn of events. I sure as _hell_ wasn't unruffled. "You wish."

Hank turned and walked away, but Bunny wasn't done. "Oh you'd love to think that night never happened, wouldn't you Hank?" Her voice was low and seductive, but I could tell Platt heard.

And I could tell Hank _knew_ she heard because his eyes immediately drifted to her direction.

He shouldn't have been so concerned about Platt though.

He probably should've been more concerned about me.

Me. Erin's husband. The husband of the woman who just wants _answers._

So then, I did the next stupid thing.

I ran another DNA test.

 **xoxo**

 **SO...** I literally have wanted a love interest for Hank for FOREVER. I don't really imagine it will ever be Upton, but I just want to have him to have someone in this story... because shit is about to hitttt the fan for them.

 **ALSO,** I still haven't processed last night's season finale. * Don't read ... spoilers ahead * My only real thought is that I think Alvin Olinsky got the proper send-off. Like Hank was completely broken hearted, we saw everyone react, AND the character is getting the proper send off on social media as well because EVERYONE has been posting on Insta/Twitter. I know they were just trying to keep Sophia Bush's exit a secret, but I'm still a little salty on how they handled it. Also, I think part of the reason there was no memorial for Al (maybe I am reading too much into this) was because Erin would've DEFINITELY been there. Although, ending it the way they did was pretty powerful I have to say. JEEZ LOUISE.

 **That's all :)** Hope you like the way this story is heading! Please please review, it makes my day!


	22. Chapter 22

Hi y'all. I know I haven't been updating as frequently but I just wanted to let you all know how much I appreciate you're continued interest and positive words. Lately I have been feeling very bla about work, and coming here always puts a smile on my face. I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it :) Lots of angst, but as requested, Jacob and his adorable little self is in this chapter! Happy reading!

 **Chapter 22,**

 **Jay's POV**

This time, I didn't tell Erin the results right away. And not because I didn't plan on telling her at all, but because for some reason this felt bigger than _Jimmy isn't your father,_ which let's be honest, we both really saw coming.

And also, because I felt that I had to tell someone else first.

"Come in," Hank's voice was gruff and angry, worse even then his usual standards. I could tell this whole situation with Erin and Jimmy was really wearing on him. I hadn't seen him this disconnected from Erin since the months after Justin died, and presumably, they had been through even more together since then.

The only thing, or should I say the only _person_ that seemed to calm him down lately was Upton. And even she had been keeping her distance in the last few days.

I proceeded with caution, slowly opening the door and coming inside. "Hey, Hank," I used his first name, signaling that this conversation was not going to be work related. He got the message immediately and looked up.

"Jay," he greeted me warily, as I closed the door and pulled the shades.

I'm not sure why I pulled the shades. Erin wasn't even there, she was picking up takeout for our 'picnic lunch' at Jacob's school at 1pm. I was about to meet her, and I honestly didn't know what I was going to say. I had gotten the call not five minutes after she had left the building. Not ten minutes before I had walked into Hank's office.

"What's up?" I had Hank's full attention, I noticed, and I took a seat in the chair opposite him. It was worn, and it formed comfortably to my bottom as I shifted uncomfortably.

"I know you know Jimmy's not Erin's father," I cut to the chase, mostly out of nerves, but also because the clock ticking in the corner of my eye told me I only had thirty minutes before I needed to be in the car, on my way to Jacob's school.

Hank's eyebrows creased in a way that told me he wasn't sure _how_ I knew that information, but I could tell he had already measured in his mind that it wouldn't be worth it to ask.

"I overheard your conversation with Bunny," I explained, and immediately recognition flashed in his eyes. "I was the one who ordered the DNA test on Jimmy. Erin asked me not to, and I did it anyway."

He shook his head slightly, as if to say 'I should have known', but he continued to sit silently, waiting for me to speak.

"I ran another test, too," I whispered these words, hoping I wouldn't need to actually spell it out for him. Part of me wondered if, on some level, he already knew.

"Okay?" He crinkled his eyebrows in a way that told me, _no,_ he really didn't know. Not on any level.

"Um, Hank." Suddenly I felt uncomfortable delivering this news.

I thought it would be better coming from me. I have absolutely no idea how Erin was going to react to this information, but something told me she wasn't going to react well. I thought I owed it to both of them to hear it from me, to give each of them a time to digest the information, instead of giving one of them a head start. Instead of one of them being approached by the other. Or really, instead of Erin hurling angry accusations across the bullpen, which is what I was really picturing when I made this decision.

But, still, for some reason, this felt wrong.

"Out with it, Halstead." Hank's voice brought me back to reality, and his use of my last name reminded exactly whose office I was sitting in, and who was sitting in the large leather chair behind the commanding mahogany desk.

"Your Erin's father." I said levelly, and I surprised even myself with the lack of tentativeness or shakiness in my voice.

"What?" Voight stood so abruptly from his desk that his black desk chair rolled backwards and bounced against the wall with such force that it rolled back to knock into him again.

He didn't even notice. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

I expected him to be shocked, but I didn't expect him to sound so angry.

 _Jesus._ If I understated Hank's reaction, how the _hell_ was Erin going to react.

"I ran another DNA test," I said, when I realized he was still looking at me expectantly. "After the conversation I overheard with Bunny, I thought it couldn't hurt." I shrugged my shoulders, as if to tell him I wasn't _actually_ expecting this to be the result. Even though, I'm not sure that was entirely true. "And it came back that you two are a genetic match."

He sat down almost as abruptly as he stood, and I was glad the chair had bounced back to be in position to catch him. The sound the leather made as he leaned into the back was the only sound that could be heard in the room. Well, that and Hank's labored breathing.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke again. "Does she know?" His voice was almost a child-like whisper, a complete 180 from only moments before.

"Not yet."

"I want to tell her," he said, looking up at me, desperation in his eyes.

"No," I answered immediately.

"But-"

I cut him off before he could finish the thought. "Hank, you know that's not a good idea." It wouldn't help his relationship with Erin, not to mention how terribly it would impact my own. "She's going to need time to digest this."

He let out a deep sigh, and I could tell he knew I was right. "Okay," he whispered. "Okay. When are you going to tell her?"

"Tonight." I said with a confidence I did _not_ feel.

I _was_ confident that I was going to tell her tonight.

But how I was going to tell her... what I was going to say... well, _that_ was another story.

"Tonight," Hank repeated. But this time, it sounded like a warning.

 **Erin's POV**

"Mommy!" Jacob ran into my arms before I even made it through the front door of his classroom. I scooped him up easily, as I had already passed the food bags to Jay.

We had started Jacob in preschool a month ago, and it had been quite the adjustment in the beginning. He had been going to the same daycare since he was three months old, and he had the same sixty-five year old woman caring for him every day during that time.

Preschool was a new building, new teachers, and new friends - and it wasn't as though his life had been all that consistent at home. First Paul was living with us, then he wasn't; then Jay was at Hank's, then he was at home. It was a lot.

If not for the consistency of his best friend Emma, I'm not sure how we would have made this transition so easily. "Hi Mrs. Halstead," Emma made her way towards us slowly, her eyes glowing with delight at our presence.

"Hi Mr. Halstead," she said, politely. She had an older sister, and she was a lot more vocal and clear spoken than Jacob. I could understand every word out of Jacob's mouth, and so could Hank and Jay, but _everyone_ could understand Emma.

"Hi munchkin," Jay replied before shifting the food bags to one arm and lifting her up with his other. "I hear you're joining our picnic today." Her parents had called this morning in a panic. Emma's mom was a lawyer, and her father was a doctor who worked with Will and Paul. She had a big case going on, so Emma's father had been the one to plan his schedule around the picnic. But as I knew all too well, doctor's couldn't really _plan_ anything.

"Yes," she said, excited to be in Jay's arms. I swear she was only three and a half, but the way she batted her eyelashes at my husband, I'd swear she was flirting with him. "My daddy had an emergency."

"Yes, an namergency," Jacob nodded fiercely along, making him a little heavier in my arms. I shifted to accommodate the extra movement and weight. "Don't worry, Emmy. My mommy and daddy brought _lots_ of food."

"We sure did," I replied, as we moved further into the classroom. Of course, the Chicago weather _never_ cooperated, and even though it was only October, it was barely 40 degrees outside. The picnic had been moved to the classroom floor.

Jay put Emma down as he laid out the checkered blanket he had purchased the night before. He had been _very_ excited about going to Jacob's school for the fall picnic and wanted everything to be perfect.

I think he secretly loved everything about the transition to preschool. I think it was because it was new for _all_ of us. It wasn't another thing in his life that Jacob and I were just catching him up on. We were all in this together.

I put Jacob down, and within seconds he and Emma were sitting happily on the blanket. "Guess what?" Jacob whispered to his friend, quiet enough that he _thought_ we couldn't hear, loud enough that we absolutely could.

"What?" She said loudly back. For all the advanced speaking capabilities Emma had, she could _not_ whisper.

"My daddy brought CUPCAKES!" Jacob was, of course, no longer whispering either.

"Buddy!" Jay faked exasperation, "That was supposed to be a surprise!"

"Oops," he giggled, laying his hand down between him and Emma. She slipped her hand right into his, giggling along.

Jacob and Emma fell into easy conversation about all the food while Jay and I unloaded it onto the blanket. Even as the two of us sat there quietly listening, I saw that Jay couldn't hide his smile. Neither could I.

Sometimes, I was so overtaken by how _normal_ this all was. The complete ease with which our family spent time together - that we _laughed_ together - it just overwhelmed me.

Things may have been complicated between me and my mother, between me and the man I _thought_ was my father - but honestly, that wasn't my _family._

My _family_ was sitting right here.

And we were normal, and happy, and completely at peace.

 **Jay's POV**

"He's wiped out," Erin appeared in the kitchen, wrapping her arms around me as I washed the last of the dishes from dinner. "I didn't even get through the first book before he was snoring next to me."

"Our boy doesn't snore," I mocked insult, turning around in her arms so that I was facing her.

"He sure does," she said, a slow smile forming on her face. "And he _definitely_ gets that from you. All you _do_ is snore lately!"

I know she was expecting another expression of mock insult, or some of my usual flirtatious banter in return, but I couldn't suppress the smile that came to my lips. Because, really, snoring is a much better sound than the ones I used to make, when I was tossing and turning with fear. "You're right," I couldn't help but agree. "At least he got _something_ from me, though," I said. "That boy is _all_ Lindsay."

"Are you kidding?" She replied, "That smile is _all_ Halstead."

"Well," I said, my tone more serious now as I realized we were venturing into a conversation about genetics, about acquiring traits from your parents. It was a perfect segue, but I just wasn't done talking about my boy. "I like to think he got the best things from both of us."

"Me too," she said, as she leaned in to press a kiss against my lips.

Her lips were so warm and inviting, and I knew I could lose myself in her warmth. I could grab her waist, lift her up onto the counter, and press my body between her legs. It was quite literally my favorite place to be; in her warmth.

But, instead, I forced myself back a little. "I have to tell you something," I said quickly, before I lost my nerve.

She looked at me, and immediately I saw the worry that took over her face.

I wanted to kiss that worry away, to tell her never mind. I wanted to go back in time to before I ran the DNA test in the first place. I wanted to go back to the time where I didn't know something that she didn't.

But I couldn't. And so, I had to move forward.

 _We_ had to move forward.

 **Erin's POV**

"I have to tell you something." My body felt hot and flush from our kiss, and I still felt a little dazed as I watched him shift backwards and away from me. My eyes refocused from their glazed state, and right away I realized this wasn't just a _little_ something.

He seemed _nervous._

And all of a sudden, I was nervous, too. Nervous and _worried._

"What's going on?" I tried to keep my voice calm, but it seemed to have a life of it's own, and the stutter and unsteadiness was more clear than anything else.

I should have known. I should have known that after an amazing day spending time with my son, that after a day where I felt finally, _completely_ at peace, _something_ was going to come along and screw it up.

"Actually," this time, my voice was clear. "I don't want to know."

I made a decision. Not today. Today had been a good day. It had been the first truly good day since the beginning of this mess with my mom, and maybe even for a while before that. Jay was all but rid of his nightmares, my son was happy and adjusted at school, work had been light and easy in the morning, and then instead of making us come back to work after, Hank had sent Jay a text telling us to just go straight home. So then, we went to zoo instead. Jacob and Emma had had a ball in the petting zoo area, and again, just like I had been at the picnic, I felt overwhelmed by the amount of happiness I could feel on this completely _normal_ day. Hearing the sounds of my son's laughter while simultaneously feeling my husband's hand in my own, it was the _best_ day.

So, whatever _this_ was, it could wait until tomorrow.

"Babe," Jay reached his hand out and lightly brushed my shoulder, breaking me out of my thoughts. "I'm going to tell you now, okay?"

I took a deep breath, knowing that my decision hadn't been fair. I couldn't let Jay carry this burden alone for the night.

"Okay," I said, giving him permission to continue.

He took a deep breath, and I could tell he was trying to summon the strength to tell me. In the moment it took for him to put a voice to his words, my mind began to explode with possibilities.

His therapy sessions with Dr. Charles had uncovered something terrible.

He didn't feel comfortable living in an apartment that Paul had lived in.

All this time I thought things were getting better, I thought _we_ were connecting, but we weren't.

In the time he'd been away, he realized he didn't want to be with me after all.

He was staying for Jacob, but now he wanted to leave.

A thousand things popped in to my head, each one worse than the the next.

"Hank is your father."

A thousand things, but _that_ hadn't been one of them

 **Jay's POV**

I could tell she was spiraling, and the sound of my raised voiced over her thoughts halted the downward spiral. I was glad of that, because I _knew_ she was worrying about me, about us. It didn't matter how many times I reassured her, how many moments we spent reconnecting, being a normal, loving, _happy_ family; she would always live with that fear that it could all be taken from her in an instant.

And I couldn't blame her. I feel the exact same way.

"What?" She finally seemed to have escaped her previous thoughts and she began to register what I had said.

"I overheard a conversation," I said, starting from the beginning. "Between Hank and your mother, and-"

"When?" She cut me off, as I knew she would. But I was determined to get this all out. I was determined to make her understand the story from start to finish, for her to understand that Hank hadn't known, and that, until now, I had never suspected.

"Last week." I paused for a second before continuing, but she interjected immediately.

"Last week?!" She exclaimed, "You've known this for a week and you're just now telling me."

"No, baby, no," I reached for her hand, and guided her to the couch in the living room. I placed my hands on her shoulders and lightly pushed her into a seated position, wrapping her favorite blanket around her before I continued, my hand resting warmly on her knee. "I overheard Bunny yelling at Hank last week. She thought he ordered the DNA test, and she was furious."

"Of course she was," Erin let out a bitter laugh, one I had heard a few times before, and only in reference to her mother. It was one of my least favorite sounds. It was reminiscent of the feelings of defeat I _knew_ she felt when it came to Bunny, and it hurt knowing I would never be able to truly rid her of those feelings.

"She told Hank that maybe he should get himself tested," I lifted her chin so that she was looking at me, only because I needed to see her eyes. Her hazel eyes were windows into her soul, and I could always tell exactly how she was feeling. Even now, I sensed the turmoil there. "He didn't seem shocked by the insinuation, but I think that was more because Bunny will say anything to get under his skin, and to get to you."

"But then she yelled out to him and referenced a night they'd had together, one she knew he wished had never happened," I shrugged my shoulders, before I continued quietly. "And I don't know. I just thought it might be worth a check. But I didn't tell you because I didn't want to worry you over nothing."

"The results just came back today." I made sure to add this part so that she knew I hadn't kept it from her very long. Especially when I told her the next part.

"I told Hank before I left to Jacob's picnic, and now I'm telling you."

"You told Hank?!" Fury flashed in her eyes, just like I knew it would. I also knew it was displaced anger. I also knew I would take it. I would do whatever I could to help bear any of the burden my wife was going through in these moments.

"I did." I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "I thought it might be best if you both had time to think it over before you had to see each other again, and I didn't want either of you to be blindsided by the news."

The fury faded only slightly, giving a small amount of room for hurt to seep in. She held my gaze as she spoke again, "I _feel_ blindsided."

"I know, baby," I reached for her chin and touched it lightly. "I know."

"He's my father?" There were tears in her eyes, but I knew they weren't happy tears. Not quite yet.

"Yeah, Er, he is," She leaned forward until she was tucked under my arm. And then, she wept.

She wept until my shirt was completely soaked through, and then tears still came. They poured out of her, and I could tell she wasn't just crying for this.

She was crying for Jimmy. For her mother.

For me.

For every moment that had broken a part of her. For every moment she spent piecing her life back together, only for it to be broken once again.

She was crying for all of it.

Eventually, the fountain ran dry and her tears subsided, and then she sat up and the fury had returned to her eyes.

And then she asked a question I had desperately been wanting to ask myself since the moment I heard that conversation one week ago.

"How could he not have known?"

That was a _damn_ good question.

One who's answer we were about to find out.

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	23. Chapter 23

Hi all :) I know some of you may not be a fan of the whole Voight/Upton part of this - but to be honest, I really wish there was a little more personal drama in the show. I feel like the show always touches on Hank for like a minute and then drops it. Like remember when he was talking to that woman at the bar who hired out escorts and she asked him how the girl was working out for him and he said she's a good listener? Like can we please not just say crazy things and then drop them!? Also, I'm just a huge Voight fan and really want him to have a romantic interest - and it definitely can't be with Kim... so that left Upton! Lol. Also, this is really how I wish the story line would have played out in the show, and I wouldn't have wanted them to only show Erin's side/Erin struggling with it. So here goesssss... I hope you like it!

 **Chapter 23,**

 **Erin's POV**

The moon made it's subtle descent as the sun rose slowly above the clouds, quietly illuminating our bedroom through the large window. Within moments, the bright yellow was shining into my eyes, as I had forgotten to lower the shades and only a pale curtain stood between our bed and the force of the sun.

It took only seconds for the light to wake Jay, and I watched as he squinted his eyes in the direction of the window. He moved slowly, standing from bed and pulling the string that caused the heavy white shades to drop over the window, allowing us a respite from light. He was quiet, tiptoing over, as though he was trying not to wake me.

I don't think he realized that I was already very much awake.

I had been up for hours.

My feelings had been fluctuating from shocked to dumbfounded to angry back to shocked. Then there was one feeling that crept in and stayed: confused. And with all of these thoughts and feelings swirling around my head, I hadn't been able to get a moments rest.

I had so many questions. So many questions I wasn't sure I really wanted to hear the answers to. I played over every scenario in my head, and each one was worse than the last.

I did the calculations. That was the first thing I did as I stroked Jay's back, enjoying the way it rose and fall with his even breaths.

I'm 30 years old.

I was conceived nearly 31 years ago.

If Camille were alive today, Hank and Camille would have just celebrated their 33rd wedding anniversary.

 _My_ Camille.

The Camille who took me in and treated me like her own daughter, the one I loved like my own mother, until the day she died.

Had she known?

Even if Hank hadn't - which I still wasn't sure I believed - had _she_ on some level suspected?

My thoughts had drifted to Jacob. The way his freckles danced around his nose. The sandy brown color of his hair. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled. The way he grinned _exactly_ like my husband.

Jay claimed he didn't always see what I saw. And for years, Hank had said the same.

But, the thing is, Jay's face is my favorite.

And so I seemed to seek it out in Jacob's. Especially during the days I didn't get to see Jay's actual face every day, the days I thought I never would again. I would look into my son's smile and I would _see_ Jay's smile in his own. In his expressions, his movements, his laugh. Even in his eyes. My baby's eye color matched my own, but there would be times where I would _swear_ I could see my husband's eyes in them.

How could it be possible that Camille hadn't seen Hank in me? He was her husband, and presumably, his was her favorite face in the world.

It just didn't seem possible to me.

Maybe she knew. Maybe she had forgiven Hank for his indiscretion, maybe he had told her and they had moved past it.

Maybe that's why she had taken me in in the first place, maybe it was the reason she had treated me like her own. Because I was a piece of her favorite person in the world.

But then, if she had known, when did she find out?

Why had it taken so long for them to find me? For them to take me in?

I lived through nightmare after nightmare. I watched the man I thought was my father ripped from my very own house, the day before I was ripped from there too. I helped my mother through an overdose at the age of 9, splashing her skin in the bathtub and pleading for her to wake up. I lived in a shelter when I turned 12. I went to high school smelling of my own mother's vomit, after spending my morning running around getting her a fix.

Then, I got hooked on drugs myself. I gave over my own body to a man, to _men,_ that were too old, too drunk, too _inappropriate_ for me to be involved with, just to have a warm place to sleep and have food on the table.

Where were they?

So I think I liked the scenario better when they didn't know.

But did that make sense?

And so it went, all night long. Back and forth, anger, despair, anxiety, sadness, regret, confusion.

Confusion, confusion, confusion.

"Er?" Jay had finally turned away from the curtain, and he must have noticed me staring at him. "Oh, baby," he sighed, "Have you been up all night?"

I shook my head, but the lone tear that trickled down my face was enough to give me away and reveal that I was lying.

He lifted the cover and slid underneath, wrapping his strong arms and lean legs around my body. He gathered me in close, and I inhaled deeply, allowing his scent to wash over me and allowing me to momentarily focus on something else.

Then I let him kiss me, and then I was focused on something else entirely.

And as he shoved my clothes away and peppered kisses down my neck and to my collar bone, but before he has kissed me into oblivion, I had one final feeling.

I felt... lucky. Because whatever was going on in my life, at least I didn't have to go through it alone.

 **Jay's POV**

"Jacob," I heard the creaking of the floorboards that signaled footsteps approaching, and then I saw the door creak open quietly. Erin had finally fallen asleep in my arms, and I wasn't about to let anything wake her up. "Come to my side, buddy," I whispered, and he stopped and redirected his path over towards me.

I shifted, moving Erin to her side of the bed and making sure she was still asleep. "Daddy," he whispered, as quietly as he could muster, "Why is Mommy sleeping?"

Erin was _rarely_ asleep when Jacob came in these days, and even when her eyes were closed, she was usually pretending, and just for enough time for he and I to attack her with tickles. But this time, she was facing away from him, and her light snores and the hair tossed carelessly over her face made it clear this was different.

"She had a long night, buddy," I whispered, reaching for Jacob and pulling him in beside me. "Let's let her sleep for another hour, okay?"

"Okay," he whispered back, this time impressively quiet, but then his nose was basically touching my own. I would have been able to read his lips, even if he hadn't made a sound.

"Do you want to go watch cartoons?" I asked, knowing he was likely wide awake.

"No," he said quietly, nestling into my shoulder, a mirror image of the place Erin had been. "I want to stay here with you."

"I love you, Jacob," I said, feeling overcome with love for this little person that Erin and I had created together. He was so perfect, he made everything else simply fall away. For me, and for Erin.

"I love you too, Daddy," he said. Then he slipped his chubby hand over my shoulder and found Erin's hand. Careful not to wake her, he placed it over hers. "I love you, Mommy."

For some reason, the gesture brought tears, unbidden, to my eyes. I placed a soft kiss on the top of his head, lingering for only moment before I replied. "Mommy loves you, too."

 **Hank POV**

It took me twenty-five years of working my ass off as a cop, a detective, and then a Sergeant, before I got my own office. I spent countless hours in countless bullpens, and even more hours in undercover cases. I spent nights and weekends away from my family, prioritizing this job, this _city,_ above all else.

I remember the day I walked into my office for the first time.

I remember the smell of the wood mixed with sawdust. I remember taking in that first deep breath, and just for a moment, closing my eyes to take it all in.

I had worked hard for it. I sacrificed more than I cared to admit - more than I cared to remember - for that office.

The Commander had walked in with me, he had presented it to me, all shiny and new, and then he had shaken my hand. He had pointed to the computer, to the shiny photos on the wall that he had taken it upon himself to frame and hang, and he had congratulated me on years of service to this city.

And then he had patted me lightly on the back, shook my hand once again, and walked out the door.

I took another deep breath, and then I slowly closed the door behind him.

As I did, I let my fingers linger on the wood paneling on the door. I memorized the way it felt worn beneath my fingers, almost soft where you would expect it to be hard. When it was finally closed, I let my head gently fall against it.

This door.

This door gave me a barrier. It became a tangible separation between me and the outside world.

It was a representation of the separation I had felt I needed all along.

And I'd been standing behind it ever since, allowing it to keep me safely inside.

But all it did was keep others out.

This morning, I found myself sitting at my desk with the door closed once again. The shades were drawn, too, further blocking out even a hint of interaction.

It made no difference, of course. I had gotten to the office a full two hours before everyone else was due to arrive. It was the morning after Jay had dropped a bomb on me, and I guess I just needed to collect myself.

Or maybe, I just needed to get out of the house.

All around my house were photos.

Just like the photos in this office, they had been hung without any regard to my opinion. First, by Camille. And then, by Erin.

God, _Erin._

What was I going to say to her when I saw her?

Last night, I got home and before I even made it through my front hallway, I lost time staring at this photo of me and Erin. I was dressed in the only suit I had owned at the time with a light blue tie. Erin was wearing a matching sleeveless light blue dress. The bottom was flowy, and it fell just above her knee. And she had been wearing these silver earrings that Camille and I had bought her for her birthday the year before.

We were dressed up for St. Ignatius' father daughter dance.

Erin hadn't originally told me about it, but somehow, Camille had found out. Probably from the newsletters they had insisted on sending out weekly, that Erin and I had both just assumed never got read. Camille had pressed me to take her, even as I made a million excuses not to go.

She had won, of course. My wife could get me to do just about anything.

After the second song, I had gotten a call. There were three bodies found in an abandoned factory, and as one of the senior detectives in my unit at the time, I had to leave the dance immediately.

She had seen me take the phone call, and right away she had known what to expect. But she hadn't faltered. Instead, she slipped her arm into mine, linking ours together, and said, "If I promise not to tell Camille," she leaned in conspiratorily, "Can I come?"

It had been the first case I had run with my best girl by my side, and I had enjoyed every single one since.

I needed this _not_ to be the end of that.

"Hey," I jumped, startled at the sound of a female voice coming from the door. I checked my clock, it wasn't even 8 am. "What are you doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," she shrugged, and moved to sit in front of me. "I could ask you the same thing."

I noticed that she said she _could_ ask me the same thing, but that she didn't. It was the type of tiptoing around each other we had been doing for weeks now.

"Yeah," I sighed, letting her know that that was the same reason I was here.

I felt calmer with her sitting across from me, and with the night I had, I wasn't about to push her away like I had the afternoon before.

"Want to talk about it?" Hailey asked, her green eyes piercing into my own. Her eyes had this intensity in them, but they were soft, too. I think it was that dichotomy that drew me to her in the first place. The way she seemed unbelievable tough, but could be tender at the same time.

"I don't know," I replied, but it wasn't the truth. I _did_ want to talk about it. But I knew I couldn't. Not with her. Really, not with anyone. At least not until I talked to Erin.

Hailey had sat across from me after hard days, after hard cases, but there was something in her eyes that told me she could tell this was different.

Maybe that's why she did what she did next.

She reached across the table and laced her fingers through my hand and squeezed it in a gesture that was so intimate, it stole my breath.

She had _never_ done anything like that, and I wasn't exactly sure what to do next. I tried to breath normally, but it was a struggle.

Then, our eyes locked on each others for several heart beats, and I squeezed back.

"Hank." The sound of Jay's voice cutting through and disrupting our private moment caused me to quite literally jump in my seat. Hailey also jumped back, pulling her hand to a hasty retreat by her side.

When I looked up, though, Jay wasn't looking at me.

And he wasn't looking at Hailey.

His eyes were glued to the spot on the desk where our hands had been.

It only took him a moment to recover, but his voice was a lot louder and gruffer than it had been only moments before. "Erin is coming up here," he said, "You might want to..." he motioned, but he seemed to not be able to find the words to voice his instructions.

It didn't matter. We both got the message loud and clear.

Within seconds, Hailey was up and had followed Jay out the door, and I was calming my breathing at my desk.

Then, I stood and moved towards my open door.

And once again, I touched my fingers to the old, worn out wood, and then I pressed the door softly closed.

I needed to regain some of the separation. I needed to remind myself of that barrier.

The one that kept the world out there, and left me in here.

Exactly where I belonged.

 **Erin's POV**

"Are you ready, babe?" Jay met me at the gated entrance to the Intelligence Unit. He had seemed a little shaken when he hustled down the stairs to meet me, but I attributed that to the fact that we had been running late. We had taken two separate cars to work because Jay had an early morning meeting with a CI and I needed to drop off Jacob at pre-school.

Saying goodbye to Jacob was getting harder and harder, the best parts of my day always starting and ending with him. But then, at least I got to spend my days with his dad at work.

And apparently, now my dad, too.

"Not really," I replied, betraying all of the nerves I was feeling. I didn't even try to hide it.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He asked.

"No," I answered, feeling confident about this answer at least. "I need to do this on my own."

"Okay," he said, as we walked hand in hand up the stairs. He walked me to my desk, where I stopped for a moment to drop off my bag and gather myself. Then he gave me a quick but heartfelt kiss and whispered "Good luck," before he gave me another kiss, this time to my forehead.

"Thanks," I whispered back, and then I was moving towards Hank's office, and lifting my hand to knock.

Before I allowed my hand to contact the wood of his door, I thought better of it. I reached down to the handle of the door knob, turned it, and let myself in.

"Erin," he stood immediately, and I could tell he was itching to move towards me, but forcing himself to stay in place. He was doing that thing where his body leaned one way, but both hands were gripped to keep him in place.

When I didn't answer his greeting he continued. "Erin, I... I just want to say..." His voice was hesitant, and it sounded nothing like the voice I had spent my teenage years getting to know, and my adult years memorizing. He was faltering in a way I had never seen. "I need to tell you... I just-"

"Did you know?" I cut him off with the one question that had been burning inside me for the past 16 hours since I had found of the news that I knew was going to change my relationship, my _life,_ forever.

At that question, he allowed himself to rush to my side. " _No,"_ he said emphatically, "No. You have to believe me, I didn't know."

He tried to reach for me, but I shifted out of the way. He got the message and immediately stepped back.

"How could you not know?" I wondered aloud, my voice more curious and cold than angry. "I mean, did you ever bother to do the math?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but I suddenly the coldness escaped and the anger flooded in. "I mean, you cheated on your wife." I was yelling now. _"_ You fucked my mother. But you never bothered to do the math?"

"I-"

"It's not possible." I spent the entire night going over and over this in my head, but I hadn't allowed this one thought to pass through. I had kept it covered in the darkest part of myself, until right now. "You may not have known in the beginning, you may not have realized early enough to protect me from my childhood, the drugs, the men," I took a deep breath, resisting the urge to pace the length of his office and instead keeping my eyes on his. I wanted him to _see_ my anger as it pulsed between us. But even as I spoke, the anger began to recede. "But you must have known later."

The coldness was gone, and now slowly the anger was leaving, too. "That's why you helped me." The anger was replaced by disbelief. " _That's_ why you took me in." Then, it was replaced my sadness.

"I wasn't special. You didn't see something in me." I heaved the words at him, even as the tears streamed carelessly down my face.

"You just felt guilty." I didn't care that the door was open, that my words were being echoed around the length of the bullpen, for every single team member to hear.

It didn't matter. None of it mattered. Because in the past 16 hours I had realized something.

Our relationship was a lie. He took me in out of obligation. Not because I was special.

"I wasn't special at all."

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**

OK, so the other thing about the Hank/Erin story line is that I always felt the beauty of there relationship was that he had taken her in and they had built this relationship and family that wasn't based on blood/obligation. So I imagine that if they had gone through with this storyline, Erin would've wrestled with that a lot. Thoughts!?


	24. Chapter 24

Hi all :) This chapter is a little shorter than usual. I am on nights again (UGH!) but I just wanted to publish a little something and not leave you on a cliffhanger for too long. Please let me know what you think :) Hope you're having a great week.

 **Chapter 24,**

 **Hank's POV**

 _You didn't see something in me._

 _You just felt guilty._

 _I wasn't special, at all._

Her words stunned me into silence. They stunned my body, paralyzing me, making it so I was unable to reach her as she moved for the door.

She slid towards the doorway that had been my barrier to the outside world, and then she moved past it, towards her own desk that stood on the other side.

And all the while, I just stood there, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to even breath.

Somehow, though, it was the sight of her tucking a stray hair behind her ear and twisting her earring as she bent over her desk to gather her things that drew me back to the present.

Or, rather, it brought me to the past, but it propelled me forward nonetheless.

We'd been sitting in a diner the first time I saw her tuck her hair behind her ear and fidget with her earring. I noticed it right away as a nervous tick, as a tell that she wasn't as confident and comfortable as she was letting on. She used to do that a lot in the beginning.

But I haven't seen her do that in years.

 _"Erin," I had been sitting alone in the booth for nearly a half hour when she finally made her appearance. She looked even more rundown than she had earlier that afternoon. I called out to her, and while I knew she immediately spotted me, her eyes first darted around the restaurant before they met mine. I knew she was checking her surroundings, making sure she hadn't been seen by anyone she knew. She was meeting with a cop at a diner, after all._

 _She moved silently into the booth, and slid across it. Her worn leather jacket was almost enough to cover the holes across her t-shirt, but as she moved, they peaked out below her jacket. Unlike her faded jeans with rips across the knees, those holes, I knew, weren't actually meant to be there._

 _But I also knew that when you had to choose between food and clothes, while at the same time supporting your mother's drug habit, fresh t-shirts sometimes fell by the wayside._

 _Erin and I had run into each other several times over the past six months, since my gangs unit was working to take down Charlie Pugliese and his gang of thugs, but this was the first time we had met outside of an interrogation room._

 _"I'm glad you called," I said, trying to keep my voice soft, even though I couldn't control the low rumble that had always been my trademark._

 _"I, um-" Erin started to speak, but at the sound of her voice shaking so uncontrollably, she seemed to stop, embarrassed. I was surprised by the uncertainty in her voice. Every other time we had sat across from each other, her voice had been bold, certain, and sometimes even sarcastic and angry._

 _I had given her my card the fourth time I'd picked her up. I had gotten her on possession, dealing, and then possession again. But the fourth time, I arrested her for solicitation. She'd been standing outside some fifty year old scumbags car door in a piece of spandex that left literally_ nothing _to the imagination. She was leaning over the car, trying to be sexy in a way a fifteen year should never try to be._

 _I had been walking down that way for an entirely different reason, and I hadn't actually been on duty. And I didn't usually arrest people for solicitation. Or, really, for drugs. But there was something about this girl that was getting under my skin. And I just couldn't let her get into that car. My skin was literally crawling as I watched her reach for the door handle._

 _So I arrested her. I ignored the three prostitutes standing right next to her, but I hauled her ass in. I made her sleep off whatever drugs she had needed to take to work herself to give her body to someone else, and then I put her in an interrogation room._

 _And instead of interrogating her, I handed her my card._

 _And I'd been waiting for her to use it ever since._

 _"I need some money," she whispered the admission, hiding her eyes as she stared at the formica table. The table was bare, save for a couple of wrapped napkins with utensils inside. I had ordered myself a coffee, but had finished it nearly fifteen minutes before. And I didn't want to presume to know what she would want. "And I can't-" she choked over the words, but she forced herself to keep talking. "I can't do it anymore." She looked me in the eyes then, and there it was again. It was there, in the eyes._

 _She had been dealt a shit hand. And she could go and give up, she could yell and scream and cry, but she didn't._

 _There was a strength deep inside her, and it's clear in her eyes. In the way she carries herself; in the way she sits up straight and holds her gaze steady even as she asks a cop for money._

 _She's scrappy, and smart, and strong, and it's all clear in her gaze. The one that lasted for all of five heartbeats, before she looked away._

 _"Okay," I said, pulling out my wallet. "How much do you need?"_

 _"No," she shook her head, "I don't want something for nothing." She reached her something beneath the leather in her jacket, a bracelet maybe, or a zipper. She seemed to be struggling to find something to do with her hands._

 _"Okaay?" I dragged out the word, forming it into a question._

 _"I-um," there she went again, that initial hesitation returned. "I'm ready to be your confidential informant." She whispered the last two words, almost as if they were a dirty little secret, which I guess, technically, they were._

 _Then, she looked around the diner, checking once again that she didn't recognize anyone. When she didn't, she looked back at me, and absentmindedly tucked a stray curl behind her ear. Then she took two fingers and began to twist her earring around and around, as she tried to steady her breathing. "I will get you whatever information you need."_

The nervous gesture pulled me out of my thoughts and into the bullpen. She was halfway towards the stairs when I made it to my door.

"Erin!" I yelled, and immediately it reminded me of that day in the diner, when I had first called her name to get her attention. Just like she had that day, she looked around, as if to take in every person that she knew in the room before she could meet my eyes.

But the difference was, in this room, there were a lot of them. Haley was seated at her desk pretending to be distracted my something on her computer, even though I could tell we had her undivided attention. Kim was at hers, not trying to pretend at all. Atwater and Ruzek were standing together near the white board, and Jay was, of course, hand in hand with Erin.

But I didn't care. "Erin, please don't go," I begged.

I had never begged in front of my team. Not once. But today... well, today was the day it all changed.

"Come back into my office. Please let me explain," I begged once again, taking a few more steps towards her. The hallway across the bullpen had never felt so big to me, but I was determined to close the distance.

"What's there to explain," she replied, her voice cold and distant.

Okay, so we weren't going to do this in the privacy of my office. But at the very least, she hadn't moved further towards the stairs. Her fingers were still intertwined with Jay's, but her body was turning to face me, opening up to the possibility of a conversation.

"It was my first undercover assignment," I began, bringing my memories back to sixteen years before I met Erin that day in the restaurant. "I was so nervous," it was something I rarely admitted to anyone but Camille, but _man_ had I been scared I'd mess it up. I had just made detective, and this was my first big responsibility as a part of the team. "Your mother was dating Jimmy at the time." Well, dating might not have been the best word. _With._ She was _with_ Jimmy. I didn't add that, though, and instead I just shook my head. "He was a lowlife. He used to knock her around left and right. And at the time, I swear, your mother was clean." Bunny hadn't been clean for a long time, but she was then. She was a scared, _young_ girl, barely twenty years old.

"My job was to get close to her to get information on Jimmy." It hadn't actually been that hard of assignment, because at that time, Bunny hadn't actually been _that_ bad. "I slept with her twice when I was undercover." The first time I had to get myself wasted out of my mind to do it. I hadn't so much as thought of touching another woman since the day I met Camille, and I remember that I had wanted to physically vomit at the thought of being with someone else. "I made sure I wore a condom, and that was that."

"When I met you, I didn't even know you were Bunny's kid." At this moment, I thanked god that I could say that and have it be the truth. I had been introduced to Erin first because of her connection to Charlie, not because of Bunny. "It wasn't until months after you moved in with us that I even knew Bunny was your mother. You always said you were a street kid, remember?" She had never wanted to give anymore information than that away. "Camille had been the one who insisted we find your mother, so at the very least we could tell her you were safe."

We had found her and told her alright, but Bunny didn't care. She was so drugged up those days, she could barely string a sentence together. I chose not to add that, knowing it wouldn't help matters.

"And I always just assumed Jimmy was your dad. Your mom was with him at the time, and when Camille and I did our investigating, his was the name listed on your birth certificate." I moved two steps closer, and I noticed that Erin didn't move away. She seemed transfixed by my story, and I could see her eyes softening. I could see her grip softening on Jay's hand, too, which I took to be a good sign.

"Camille and I made a promise to each other early on," I explained, "I did what I needed to do when I was at work, and then I left it outside before I came home." I mentally shoved everything away before I walked back into her arms each night. Or at least, I tried too.

"Camille, she," I could hear the way tears were clogging my throat at the mention of my wife's name, of our promise. "She didn't know. She never knew. And neither did I."

"And Erin, listen to me," I moved closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. Jay stepped away, releasing her hand and giving us our space. "That's not why we brought you home. That's not why we loved you." My voice seemed to break at the _we._ I hadn't been a _we_ in so long. God, I missed my wife. "That's not why I love you. You are special. You have always been so special to me. The fact that you pulled yourself out, you made something of yourself, despite terrible circumstances, and against all odds? It's been nothing short of amazing to watch."

"And to find out I'm your father?" My voice trailed off as I tried to find some resolve. "To find out that maybe I had a hand in the amazing woman you've become? Well, that's," I searched for the words as I reached for her chin. "Well that's pretty much the best news I have ever received."

She didn't say anything for several moments, and the silence stretched between us. Finally, she looked at me, and I could tell I had her. That everything was about to fall into place.

But then, she opened her mouth and spoke. "I think I just need some time," she said.

And I realized, I couldn't have been more wrong.

 **Jay's POV**

"Hi buddy," Jacob was sitting in a tiny blue chair around a miniature table, playing play dough with Emma. It was barely 9 am, and we had pretty much just dropped him off, so I knew he would be shocked to see us.

"Daddy!" He shouted, scooting his chair back and launching for me. "What are you doing here?" Jacob loved being picked up at the end of the day, but this middle of the day surprise seemed to excite him even more than usual.

I was about to open my mouth to answer when I noticed Jacob get momentarily distracted by his mother's appearance right behind me. "Mommy!" He said, this time even louder.

The tiny hands that were wrapped around my neck released me, and they reached out in Erin's direction, signaling he wanted to be held by her instead.

And just like that, Erin's hazel eyes lit up, and her beautiful smile finally returned to her face. Dimples and all.

Okay, so this _was_ a good idea to come here then.

I had offered that we stop for breakfast by the 21st just the two of us and talk this whole thing out, but Erin had shaken her head right away, insisting that what she _really_ needed was right here in this preschool.

"Jacob," she said, but it came out hoarse. But then, I wasn't surprised. Jacob's name was the first word I had heard her voice in over twenty minutes. We had sat hand in hand in a comfortable silence in the car. I had known she wasn't ready to talk, and I was trying not to push. I was trying to be the supportive husband she had been for me for the months before. "What do you say we go get some breakfast?" She asked, her voice now returning to the regular animation she had when she spoke to our son.

"Can we get pancakes?" He asked, excitedly, as I passed him over to Erin. She wrapped him in her arms, and immediately, he leaned his head in the nape of her neck.

He usually reserved that for morning cuddles and he didn't often do that during the day, and I could tell it surprised Erin too. He must have been able to sense that she needed it somehow.

"Pancakes sounds perfect, baby," she said back, pressing a kiss against his temple.

"YAY!" He shouted.

Erin laughed at his outburst, and then she looked over at me and smiled. After alerting the teacher that we would be taking Jacob for the day, we walked out of the classroom and towards the car.

Jacob was giving Erin the play by play of the mere hour they had been apart, and with every word, her body and mood lightened. This had clearly been exactly what she needed.

After several moments, she reached for my hand. "I love you, you know that?" I said, whispering over our adorable, chatty child. "And I love our family."

"I love you, too," she said. But then she stopped midstride and turned towards me, only a few feet away from the car. "Hank's our family, too, isn't he?" She asked, uncertainly.

I paused for a long while, weighing whether or not I should chime in with my opinion.

I _believed_ Hank when he said he didn't know. I believed Hank when he said that wasn't the reason he took Erin in. And I believed _in_ Hank and Erin's relationship. It was complicated, and messy, but it was also beautiful.

And I knew it was the only thing that had gotten Erin through the years we had been apart.

But I wasn't sure how much of that Erin really wanted to hear right now, in the preschool parking lot, less than a day after she had been bombarded with this truth. So instead of saying anything, I just nodded slightly, allowing her to read as much or as little as she wanted.

"You know what I think?" I said, my voice light, as I turned us and began walking towards our car.

"What, Daddy?" Jacob answered, clearly thinking I was talking to him.

"I think that there is pretty much _nothing_ that can't be solved by a stack of chocolate chip pancakes."

"Well," Erin responded, handing Jacob off to me so that I could settle him into his carseat and we could get on the road. "You're definitely right about that."

 **xoxo**

 **Please Review :)**


	25. Chapter 25

Hi all! I know, it's been a whileeeeee... I was in a writing mood this week and I decided to continue this story. Should I keep going? Or have we moved from Linstead to Upstead lol. Let me know what you think :)

 **Chapter 25**

 **Erin's POV**

It's been 72 hours since I walked out the door of District 21, hand in hand with Jay, after telling Hank I needed time to think. The funny thing is though, it only took me about an hour after our conversation to realize I believed him. To realize I believed _in_ him. But something was keeping me from walking from my front door to his to tell him that.

The truth is, even though I believed him, I still wasn't sure where we were supposed to go from here. Which, of course, makes no sense, because even before I found out, my son called him Grandpa, and I thought of him as my dad.

But, still. It just felt different. So I stayed away.

I wouldn't have, though.

I wouldn't have, if I had known it might be the last chance I would get to see him alive.

I wouldn't have, if I had known I would regret it every day, for the rest of my life.

 ** _72 hours earlier..._**

 **Hank's POV**

She walked out.

She pulled her cheek away, making my fingers feel instantly cold at the loss of contact.

Her eyes had filled with tears, and what I _thought_ was understanding, but then she moved away. Out of my reach. Maybe, out of my life.

Her face was filled with pain as she turned on her heel and moved out of the bullpen, her fingers intertwined with her husbands. Then, I could no longer see her face, and then she didn't look back.

The room felt silent and empty without her in it and I lost my breath for a moment. It was just me, standing in the center of bullpen, the place that has felt more like a home to me then any other place, and I lost my breath. I felt completely alone, even though, I actually wasn't.

Actually, I had four people trying not to stare at me, but unable to look away.

"Get back to work," I said. My voice sounded harsh and angry, even to my own ears. But I couldn't help it. I never could help it. I also used my rage as a blanket to hide my pain.

Ruzek was the first to speak. "Sure, boss," he said, moving away from the break room and towards his own desk. I watched as he booted up his computer, as everyone else moved back to their desks as well.

I looked around to everyone, scanning the room at each teach member, but I was careful to keep my eyes averted away from Hailey. I knew if I took one look in her eyes, I would break down completely. And, well, the team had already seen enough for one day. They certainly didn't need to see that too.

So instead, I mimicked Erin's actions. I turned on _my_ heel, and turned out of the room.

But instead of going out in to the world, like she had, instead of going to pick up my son and spend time with my family, like she had, I turned inward. I went back into my office, back into the place that had kept me safe, but separate for years.

And then, I closed the door. Closing myself in like I had done one hundred times before.

Because I knew, just like I had known then, this was how it was supposed to be.

 **Jay's POV**

"What do you want to do today?" I whispered the words into my wife's ear. She was facing away from me, staring out the window, taking in the rising of the day. But I had been up for a while, and I could tell when her calm even breathing changed, and she had woken for the day. And that had been 10 minutes ago.

"I'm not ready," she whispered back, snuggling under our clean white duvet.

I knew what she saying, just like she knew what I was asking.

We hadn't addressed the Hank situation again since we were outside Jacob's school. Since she had recognized that he, too, was part of this family. Of _her_ family. It's like Hank had her for a moment, but then he lost her again. I wasn't exactly sure where she stood, and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. But now it was Sunday, and even though we weren't due to go into work, we were due for our standing Sunday night dinners.

"Okay," I whispered back, but this time, I moved my hand across her stomach, sliding my hands in way that I was able to nudge her onto her back. The white blanket fell away revealing her pale skin. She felt warm against my fingers, and as she moved, I leaned into her neck, breathing in her scent. "Do you know how much I love you?" I breathed the words out against her ear, as my hands trailed down her skin.

She didn't reply, but I noticed that her breathing quickened with my words.

"Let me show you," I kissed her earlobe before trailing kisses down her neck.

"How are you going to do that?" She replied, even though she was already closing her eyes, even though she was already breathless and wiggling against me.

Instead of answering, I leaned over and pressed my lips against hers. At the same time, I tore down the lace of her underwear and slipped a finger inside. She was already warm and wet and waiting for me.

"Oh," she moaned, her body responding immediately. I slipped a second finger in, and began using my thumb to massage her outside. I continued to kiss her, her lips, her neck, her collarbone, until I found my way down to her breast. I licked, and sucked, and teased until she was writhing against me, calling out my name.

Her muscles spasmed against my fingers and her breathing came out in choppy heaves. When it slowed, I moved my fingers out, and slid into her.

At that moment, she opened her eyes, and she stared straight into mine. And everything fell away.

 **Erin's POV**

As I looked up him, the stresses of the day, the week, the month... everything fell away, as I stared back at him.

I marveled at how he was able to do this. I had been staring at the window, feeling more than a little lost, and he took one look at me, and he made me whole again.

"I love you," I said, and my voice came out hoarse.

"I love you more," he replied, as he slowly moved inside me, in and out, in and out.

I kissed him then, falling back into a rhythym with him. His muscles bunched above me as he drew me higher and higher. I scraped my nails down his back, loving the heat of him above it. And then suddenly, he flipped me over.

He pinned me down, facing the bed, and he entered me again from behind. He bit my shoulder and I let out a groan.

He always did that. He made me feel loved and crazed at the same time. One minute, I am thinking about how much I love him, as my partner, as a father... and the other, I am being taken, my body pinned between him and the mattress, with him in complete control.

God, it turns me on.

I turned my head to the side, so that as he was licking his way down my back, and up my shoulders, and to my neck, he could also find my lips to kiss me.

And that's exactly what he did. And when our lips met, he exploded.

And he took me with him.

 **Jay's POV**

"Okay, seriously though," I said, my fingers laced in Erin's. "What should we do today?"

We moved to the shower where he sex a second time, using the soap and the shower head to push ourselves over the edge again. Then we moved back to the bed, and she treated me in a _very_ sexy way that still has me panting. After everything that happened over the week, it's like Erin needed an outlet... and Ias very much enjoying being that outlet.

Years ago, when we didn't have Jacob, I would have been able to answer my own question. We would have moved into the kitchen, me in boxers, with her sporting the t-shirt I had tossed aside the night before. I would have made coffee while she sat on the kitchen counter, tantalizing me with her long, slim legs. The pot wouldn't even be done brewing, and I would be taking her again.

But well, we can't do that anymore. It was almost 7 am, and within 10 minutes, we were likely to have a little visitor in our bed. It was the only reason I was sporting clothes instead of another erection.

"Breakfast, then aquarium?" She asked, checking the clock.

We went to the zoo on Friday, and yesterday we went ice skating _and_ out for dinner. She is trying to stay busy, give herself an excuse to _not_ go ring Hank's doorbell.

I thought she should do that, of course, but I was also happy to oblige.

"Perfect," I said, leaning over to kiss her before I slid out of bed. "I'll go start on the coffee."

"Thanks babe," she said, but before I reached the door, I heard her call me again. "Jay," she said, a little more urgently this time.

I turned to look at her, and took in her eyes, hazel and bright, but filled with tears. "Yeah, baby," I kept my voice soft.

She stayed quiet for a second and then she wiped a tear away. "Really," she paused, "Thanks."

I moved back towards the bed, and moved my fingers towards her face, wiping away another tear. "Anytime."

And I mean it. I hold my hand against her cheek for what feels like forever, just because I _can._

After years apart, months trying to bring our lives back on track, after all the highs and lows, it feels _good_. It feels good to be able to be there for her. To have it be us against the world, on the same side of a problem, ready to tackle it together.

Everything she is going through, everything she is going to _go_ through, from here on out, we are going to face it together.

 **Hank's POV**

I haven't heard from Erin. Not a word.

At the very least, though, I know she's ok. Jay texted this morning.

When I got the message, I couldn't help but get my hopes up. I slid my finger across my iPhone screen, trying hard not to focus on the background image of Erin and Jacob, the one that had been my background since the day she brought him home from the hospital.

 _Hey Hank. We aren't going to be able to make it to Sunday night dinner tonight. I'm really sorry. We will both see you tomorrow at work though._

It was more words than he usually texted, and I could tell he felt bad. But it still felt like not _enough_ words.

I needed to know more. Was she okay? Was she still angry?

Would she ever get over this?

Were we ever going to be a family again?

I went to type out a message back. I _hated_ texting, and even more, I hated that I had no idea what to say.

Because, really, I couldn't say any of that.

 _Ok, thanks for letting me know._

I decided on that, and hit send. The blue circle appeared on the screen and then I closed my phone. I shifted my gaze back towards the chili I had already started making.

I had clearly been in denial this afternoon when I began chopping the ingredients and stewing them together. It took all my energy to refrain from picking up the pot and throwing it across the room. Instead, I reached for the ladel, and continued to stir the ingredients together methodically, allowing the smells to bring me comfort, to bring me back to the days where life wasn't so _damn_ complicated.

 _"Dinner's about ready," I stood in the kitchen, stirring my famous chili. Well, famous according to my wife, at least. I had come home early today, and Camille already had the ingredients waiting for me, with an ice cold bottle of my favorite beer next to the stove. She was always doing that. Thoughtful, little things to make me feel special during a regular day._

 _Not that today was a regular day._

 _"Honey," Camille checked on the vegetables once more, and then straightened the table settings for the third time. I could tell she was nervous."Should you go upstairs and get her?" She turned to me, before re-adjusting the forks, spoons, and knives for the fourth time. "Or should we just call at the bottom of the stairs and tell her come down?" That's what we usually did with Justin._

 _"I'll get her," I said, placing the ladle on the spoon holder and slipping the top of the pot back on the chili._

 _It was our first night with Erin. Well, second if you counted last night, but by the time I brought her home battered and bruised from the hospital it was nearly midnight, so I really didn't think that counted._

 _"Okay," she said, nervously again. She went to tug on her dress, as if she was trying to straighten it. I didn't have the heart to tell her that Erin wouldn't notice the effort. She wouldn't pick up on the fact that Camille was wearing one of the dresses she often wore to church, as if she was trying to mark this as a special occasion._

 _I noticed though. And it felt pretty special to me._

 _Justin walked into the kitchen on my way out to get Erin. "Smells good," he said, raising an eyebrow in a mix of excitement and surprise. It was rare that I was home by 6 on a weeknight, and he knew it._

 _I made my way up the stairs and over to the guest bedroom. The door was closed, and I couldn't hear a peep coming from the other side of the door. I thought of all the times I had to go upstairs and drag Justin down for dinner when he didn't hear me at the bottom of the stairs. I thought of the fact that his music was always blaring, or I could hear his voice talking on the phone. The contrast felt signficant somehow. Like she hadn't gotten to be a normal teenager, and she didn't know how it was supposed to go._

 _"Erin," I knocked lightly on the door, but I didn't enter. I wanted her to feel safe in this house, and I wanted her to know that I wouldn't barge in and take away her privacy._

 _Without a word, she came to the door and opened it widely. I saw that the bed was rumpled and unmade from the night before, but that her bag was completely packed and closed. Not a single personal item of hers was visible in the room._

 _"Dinner is ready," I said to her, trying to smile despite the sadness that had come over me at the look at the sparse room._

 _"Okay," she whispered back, and I noticed that her voice was raspy just like mine. I had always assumed she smoked cigarettes to get it like that, but honestly, I had never seen her holding one._

 _She followed me silently to the kitchen, and I noticed that she was limping slightly with the effort. I almost said something, but then we made it to the table before I could get out the words. Instead of sitting, I moved towards the stove and when I turned, Erin was still standing by the table, as if she was unsure where to sit._

 _Justin turned to her. Two years her junior, he was thirteen and still a young boy at heart. "My dad sits there," he said, pointing to the empty seat on his left. "But you can sit here," he said, pointing to the one other empty seat, not occupied by him or or Camille._

 _"Thanks," she whispered. She pulled out the chair carefully and slid in, and I noticed that she was making every effort not to make a sound. She seemed so skittish in comparison to the girl I had gotten to know - the girl that I had arrested, and then had later become my CI. She seemed scared. She seemed smaller somehow. And it wasn't just the events of the night before. Because, unfortunately, this wasn't the first time I had seen her with bruises lining her face._

 _Camille had plated the vegetables and I began to spoon the chili into bowls. I brought one over and set it in front of her, but she didn't move to taste it yet, instead watching the steam rise gracefully from the bowl._

 _It was silent around the table, and I went to open my mouth to speak, but before I could, my wife chimed in._

 _"Erin," she said, and then she reached over and grabbed Erin's hand in her own. Camille's eyes were soft and caring when she looked at Erin. It was the same softness that had reeled me in all those years ago. "I'm glad you're here."_

 _Erin didn't move for a moment. Actually, it seemed like she stopped breathing altogether. But after a few moments, she finally found her words to speak. "I really appreciate you having me for the night, ma'am." It was only the third time she had met Camille, and I could tell she didn't feel entirely comfortable yet._

 _"Oh, sweetheart," she squeezed her hand and and then released it, moving her hands instead to rest on Erin's cheek. She traced the bruise that ran along her jaw, but was careful to avoid the scrapes and bandages. "We don't want you to just stay for dinner. We want you to_ stay. _"_

 _Erin stilled again in shock, which I may have found humorous if I hadn't found it quite so sad. I had been asking her to come stay with us for months._

'You have your own family. They won't want me to stay. Besides, I'm fine. I'm a street kid, and that's where I belong,' _she would say, even though I assured her she was wrong._

 _But maybe she just needed to hear it from my wife. Maybe the cop who was paying her to put away criminals wasn't convincing enough._

 _"Really?" Her voice was barely audible above the hum of the refridgerator, but somehow, we all heard it._

 _"Really," Camille replied back. I looked over at her proudly, memorizing the moment. Even Justin seemed to be taking it all in, as if he realized how significant this moment was going to be in the grand scheme of our lives._

 _"Now eat up," she said, and she lifted up Erin's spoon and handed it to her. "Hank made his famous chili," she smiled. "Best comfort food there is."_

 _Erin's eyes welled, but before a tear could fall, she pulled them back in. Instead, she took the spoon and said, "Okay."_

 _She smiled. And then she dug in._

I was shaken out of my trip down memory lane when there was a soft knock at the door. Just like when I received the text message, my heartbeat quickened in excitement. Maybe Erin had changed her mind. Maybe she was standing with Jay and Jacob at the front door, waiting to come in and have a bowl of chili. Just like old times.

I moved quickly towards the door, my lips broadening wider and wider into a smile with each passing step.

When I opened the door though, I froze. Because there was a woman standing there. But it wasn't Erin.

"Hi," she said. She pulled at the sleeves of her jacket, as if looking for something for her fingers to do. "I, uh, just wanted to check on you. See how you're holding up... after, you know... everything."

For some reasons, I couldn't find the words to respond. Instead, I just stood there, staring at her.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, tugging at her sleeves once I again. The dark fabric made a noise as if it was straining at the effort. "I shouldn't have come."

She turned to leave, and suddenly, at the sight of another woman walking away from me, I was able to find my words. "Hailey," I used her first name, noticing that she hadn't called me anything. In place of her usual _boss_ or _Sarge_ or _Voight_ , she kept it blank. "Do you want to come in?"

She seemed to let out a breath of relief at my invitation, revelaing that she wasn't exactly sure how I was going to respond to her showing up at my door. "Yeah," she said.

She followed me in, and I closed the door softly behind her. I offered to take her coat, and for the first time, I allowed my touch to linger just a little bit against her neck as I reached for the collar of the black jacket to help her slip it off. I'm not sure if it was a test, something to confirm she was here for the reason I thought she was, but either way, the way she leaned into my fingers and the way her breathing changed slightly erased any traces of doubt I had.

She turned around to face me, and her light blue eyes held mine. Her eyes were my favorite thing about her. The way sometimes I could look at them and I would have no idea what she was thinking. And then sometimes, I could see straight into her soul.

"It smells good in here." Her voice came out in a husky whisper, and she cleared her throat with embarassment and surprise.

"I made chili," I said, my voice always husky. I barely skipped a beat before asking, "Care to join me for dinner?"

"Sure," she said, following me through the hallway and into the kitchen.

But she didn't just stay for dinner. What started as a bowl of chili, turned into to a couple of beers at the table, which turned into a couple of beers on the couch.

It was strange. I have had my guard up for so long I didn't really know how to let it down. I hadn't really _talked_ to a woman in years.

So we started off small. We stayed far away from the whole scene she had witnessed in the bullpen, and we talked about work. She told me about cases she had seen before she came to work in my unit, and I shared some war stories of my own. The conversation flowed easily, and there wasn't a single moment of awkward silence that needed filling.

But then when I got up to go into the kitchen to get us another set of beers and came back to hand her a fresh one, our fingers brushed against each others. She allowed her fingers to linger for just a little too long, and in turn, I allowed my gaze to do the same. I took in her face in the soft glow of my living room, the way her hair seemed to shine almost as bright as her eyes.

And then, somehow, I sat, and I told her everything. It poured out of me. I have no idea where it came from.

Years and _years_ of pain flowed out. Even the happy times felt laced with it somehow, now that everyone I loved in my stories was gone.

"Erin's not gone," Hailey said. "She may need some time, but she's still here. You still _have_ time."

I didn't answer for a long time after she said that, but I silently prayed she was right. "Thank you, Hailey," I said finally, reaching for her hand.

But somehow on the way to her hand, my fingers moved to her face instead. And then it slid around to the back of her head, and then ever so slowly, I was moving it towards me.

I stopped her face inches from my own and stared into her eyes for a moment asking permission. She didn't answer, instead she leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine.

Her lips were so soft, I lost myself in them. I honestly don't know how long we sat there, I just know that when I looked up, the sun was creating a show across my living room, and it was 5 am.

"I should probably get going," she said, her voice was raspy and her chest was rising and falling dramatically with the effort.

I didn't answer, I just nodded. I was honestly afraid if I opened my mouth, I would beg her to stay forever.

"I have to get home and change for work," she said, shifting. "My boss is kind of a hard ass." She laughed, and I couldn't help the smile that followed.

"Well that's true," I responded. I followed her to the door, and slipped her coat on. This time, instead of letting my fingers linger against her neck, I let my whole body linger. I hugged her tight against my body, and kissed her again before letting her go. "I'm glad you came over."

"Me too," she said, linking her fingers between mine. "Me too." Then she turned to go, and she only made it halfway down to the walk before she turned it around. She seemed to want to say something, but a flash of uncertainty crossed over her face before she must have changed her mind. Because instead, she let out a little wave, said "I'll see you at work," and then she was gone.

I closed the door behind her. I stood in the foyer of my home for five straight minutes, my heart beating rapidly against my chest. I could still feel the tingle of her lips on mine. I hadn't kissed a woman like that since Camille.

The thought made me equal parts sad and excited, and I decided not to dwell on either one of those feelings.

Instead, I turned to make my way up the stairs.

It was when I made it about halfway up that the pain came. It was so unbearable I lost my breath. And my balance. And I began to fall.

 **Erin's POV**

"Tell me again this is okay," I turned to Jay, who was sitting in the passengers seat of our car. We were sitting outside the district, a full 30 minutes before the start of work. We had dropped Jacob off a little early; but after taking him out of school on Friday and the full on spoiling he got all weekend long, I didn't feel that bad about it.

"It's okay," Jay said, lacing his fingers through mine with one hand and taking the keys out of the ignition with the other. "He'll understand."

I noticed that he said _he'll_ understand, and not _I'll_ understand. But I knew I had to let that go. I knew this decision was going to be tough on Jay, but deep in my bones, I felt it was the right thing to do.

"I just need time away," I voiced again, more certain this time, but still not moving from the car.

"You know Hank would give you time off if you asked. You don't need to switch units," he said, turning to look at me.

"I know," I responded, immediately. We had been doing this song and dance since last night. "But I don't want time off." I had to look away from him before I said the next part, the hurt in his eyes was beginning to be too much. "I don't want to stay home, away from work, and think about the fact that my whole life has been a lie."

He opened his mouth and I _know_ he wanted to say 'But you're whole life wasn't a lie', because, we really had done this song and dance ten times before. But he closed it again, as if realizing nothing he could say at this point was going to change my mind.

"I bet he'll let you come back if you want," he said, finally.

"I know," I said, and I squeezed Jay's hand. "And maybe, one day, I'll be ready for that."

This time he didn't have to say anything, but I could read his eyes. _I hope so_ , he was saying.

"I love you," I replied, leaning forward and kissing him. "And I would stay if I could."

"I know," he said. Then, finally, he said the words I needed to hear. "I understand."

I closed my eyes, and allowed the relief to flood through me. "Okay," I said, opening my car door. "Let's go."

He came around to my side of door as I grabbed my bag, and he laced his fingers with mine. "For what it's worth," I said, turning towards him. "You will always be my favorite partner."

"I know," he said, as we walked along the sidewalk. But he was staring down, unable to look me in the eyes.

"And I would stay for you if I could," I continued, this time reaching for his cheek to look at me.

His eyes turned serious before he replied, "I know that, too." Then he leaned down and took my lips with his. And not in a quick, husband and wife kiss. He bit my lip and his tongue entered with an urgency he had never showed in our work parking lot. By the time he pulled away, we were both a little bit breathless. "And I love you for that."

"Should we go in?" I asked finally.

"Yeah, let's go in," he replied. "We can tell him together."

"Thank you," I whispered, as we trailed up the steps. With every step, I felt more and more confident with my decision. But then, maybe it was because I had the love of my life with me, giving me strength along the way.

But then, when we finally made it into the district, Hank wasn't there. We waited, and waited, and waited.

We watched everyone file into the office, we watched everyone boot up there computers and settle in for the day, and still nothing.

At 8:05, I finally called him.

"It went straight to voicemail," I tried to keep the fear out of my voice, but I knew I failed. The last time Hank hadn't shown up to work, he had been abducted. I remembered how Jay and I had approached his house, how I had made light of the situation when I pulled out my personal key to his house, _Cause I'm special is why..._ and I remembered the fear that gripped my heart when I walked in and saw clear signs of a struggle all over the house.

"That's impossible." I turned at the sound of the voice. I expected it to be Jay comforting me. But it wasn't Jay. It was Hailey. "I just saw him."

Jay's eyes darted from mine to Hailey's, and his gaze narrowed as if trying to work something out. "When?" He asked in his no nonsense tone.

A red blush flooded her cheeks and her hands went to her mouth, as if she was surprised she had allowed herself to speak.

"When?" he prompted her again. "Where?" He added.

"This morning," she said. Then she shifted her gaze downwards and pulled anxiously at her jacket. "At his house."

Jay breathed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them, I noticed his expression didn't match mine.

He seemed worried, sure. But he didn't seem surprised.

He didn't seem surprised, at all.

 _What the fuck was going on?_

 _And where the_ hell _was my Dad?_

 **xoxo, Please Review :)**


End file.
